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THE 


Trip of the Porgie ; 


OR, 


Tacking up the Hudson* 




The Sentiment and Humor of Events en route 


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By BRICKTOP. 


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COPYRIGHT^, 
1874 &) 

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NEW YORK: 

COLLIN & SMALL, PUBLISHERS, 113 FULTON ST. 


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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by 
COLLIN & SMALL, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 


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Pnitati ok Wynkoop & IIallknbeor, 
313 Fulton Street, N. T. 


The Trip of the Porgie; 

OR, 


TACKING UP THE HUDSON. 



CAPT. FINECUT, BYRON BLEAT, WILLIAM BITTERS, TOM BUBBLE, JOHN 
STUMP (SARDINE CLUB) J JULIUS BASTER, STEWARD. 


TACK FIRST. 

New York is noted for its clubs, of various sizes and import- 
ance, but the Sardine Club, here brought under consideration, 
demands a particular introduction to the reader, since their trip 
to 4-lhany, by way of the Hudson River, will probably throw 
them into each other’s company to some extent for awhile. 

The whole Club is shown in the above group, which was 
taken especially to grace this curious and eventful history. But 
allow me — 

Reader, this is Mr. Gasper Finecut, President of the Sardine 
Club ; a perfect gentleman, a good companion, and a well-posted 


4 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


man for one of Jiis age ; rich, and very good-looking, as you see. 
He will probably entertain us with some interesting historical 
matters, together with fresh reminiscences of the localities we 
may pass on our way up the magnificent river, this sort of 
thing being his weakness. 

And this is Byron Bleat, (he pronounces it Ble-at, mind) the 
Vice-President of the Club, a man given to love-making, senti- 
ment and poetry ; but as he never inflicted any of the latter 
upon the public, there is no reason why he should not be favor- 
ably received, especially as he is rich and handsome, and other- 
wise a good fellow. We all have our weaknesses, you know, 
reader. 

The gentleman next to him is Mr. William Bitters, the Secre- 
tary of the Club ; a man whose blood seems tinged with worm- 
wood, and who never has a sympathetic word for anybody, and 
don’t think any too much of himself, perhaps, because he knows 
himself so well. And yet he is not a bad man at heart, although 
he would probably growl at any good action he might do, es- 
pecially if anybody was aware of his doing it. There is one 
good thing, he doesn’t say much. 

This is the Treasurer of the Club, Tom Bubble. Tom is one 
of the best fellows in the world, rich but not handsome. His 
particular weakness is being funny. He will try on his little 
joke at every opportunity. 

This is plain John Stump, the only private member of the 
Sardine Club, the whole membership being but five, counting 
out the colored steward. Stump was born with a silver spoon 
in his mouth, but, somehow, it did not assist in cutting his eye- 
teeth any to speak of ; and he will probably remain to the day 
of his' death, a good-natured, generous-hearted, square and up- 
right fellow, but always be plain John Stump. 

The brunette standing behind the gentlemen who have been 
presented is Julius Baster, the steward, the man who attends to 


THE TKIP OF THE POBGIE. 


5 


the inner-members of the Club ; a faithful, wide-awake, well- 
paid, well-appreciated, good-looking darkey, a good cook, and a 
first-rate man and brother. 

Now, then, reader, you are supposed to be personally ac- 
quainted with the members of the Sardine Club, so let us pro- 
ceed to business. 

About the first of July, not long since, the Club received an 
invitation from the Stuffed Club, of Albany, to pay them a 
visit and partake of their hospitality. This invitation was 
readily accepted, and Mr. Baster was ordered to see that their 
yacht, the Porgie , was placed in commission, and well stored 
with all that could stay the stomach, lull the heart, and satisfy 
the inner yachtsman. 

Being a personal friend of all hands, I received an invitation 
to accompany them, and, without any hesitation, I accepted it, 
well knowing that a joyous time awaited me. 

The yacht Porgie is one of the prettiest and fleetest crafts to 
be found in American waters, having been built expressly for 
the Club, and fitted up with every convenience that money 
could purchase or ingenuity suggest. She is sloop-rigged, has 
a commodious cabin and store-room, is painted white, “swings a 
cloud of canvas,” and is, in all respects, queen of the Hudson 
River. 

On the morning of July 1st, everything was in readiness, and 
the members of the Club stepped on board, dressed in the uni- 
form of the New York Yacht Club. The President appeared 
as Captain ; the Vice-President, as First Mate ; the Secretary, 
as Second Mate', the Treasurer, as Sailing Master ; while John 
Stump, the sole private member of the Club, appeared as an 
ordinary sailor ! 

The morning was beautiful, and a fair breeze was blowing 
from the South. The last touch had been given, the last order 
obeyed, friends on shore were still waving their handkerchiefs, 


6 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE, 



Sailing-Master Bubble picking his way through the crowd 

OF VARIOUS KINDS OF CRAFT IN THE NORTH RlVER, OPPOSITE 

Pier 30 , New York. 


THE TRIP OP THE PORGIE. 


1 


when, at a signal from the saluting gun, up went the white 
wings of the yacht, and the Porgie bowed gracefully before the 
suggestion, and swept like a white sea-gull around the Battery, 
and sped into the waters of the Hudson River, whose surface 
was so thickly dotted with the breasts of pleasure craft or the 
blunt bearers of heavy burdens. 

Progress for a mile or two at this point is necessarily slow, 
on account of the dodging of ferry-boats, and the various other 
aquatic coaches depending on steam or wind. But Tom Bubble 
knew his craft and every drop of water through which she was 
plowing. Nothing could be 'more artistic than the way in 
which he handled the Porgie , he being at one time the pupil 
of Captain Samuels, from whose hands he came forth a perfect 
yachtsman. 

Everything being taut and tight, the Club proceeded to get 
somewhat enthusiastic on the strength of the bracing air and 
the enchantment of the scene. Byron Bleat took it all in, and, 
after holding it as long as he could, he began to let it out again 
in singing, “A Life on the Ocean Wave,” while the others, with 
the exception of Bitters, joined heartily in the inspiring chorus. 

“I say, Byron,” said Bitters, “why not wait until we get 
above New York, before you take on so?” 

“ Why ?” asked the first mate, blushing like a girl. 

“Because people along shore might mistake our craft for a 
cattle boat,” replied Bitters, in his usual deprecating way. 

“ Oh, you be hanged ! I wasn’t singing for you.” 

“Oh, you were singing, eh? Well, I beg pardon.” 

“ Oh, let up, Bit ! Try and see if you can’t be happy just for 
once, and see how it seems,” said Bubble. 

“ Well, if you won’t make any more of those noises, I will try.” 

“Ah ! here we are abreast of Pleasant Valley. Now she takes 
it !” said Captain Finecut, as he glanced proudly at his craft 
that leaped the wavelets and kissed the flying spray. 


8 


THE TKIP OF THE PORGIE. 



“At this point Julius Bastar appeared up the companion-way, 

BEARING- A SILVER SERVER, ON WHICH WERE FIVE FINE CUT 
GLASSES, FILLED WITH A RICH BROWN LIQUID, ON THE SURFACE 
OF WHICn FLOATED A BIT OF LEMON PEEL.” 

“Pleasant Valley, eh? Well, what of Pleasant Valley?” 
asked John Stump, coming aft. 

“ Common sailors shouldn’t mingle with the officers,” put in 
Bitters, waving the “ crew ” back to his quarters amid a roar of 
laughter. 

Stump got red in the face, but didn’t venture a reply. 



THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


9 


“Well, Pleasant Valley is a very pretty little place for short- 
stop pic-nics and boat races,” replied the captain, without pay- 
ing any attention to what Bitters had said. “It has been 
greatly improved within a year or two.” 

“Yes, I have been to several boat races up this way; the 
Gulick Club sometimes make their headquarters here. Splendid 
place,” said Bubble. 

At this point, Julius Baster emerged from the cabin, bearing 
a silver tray, upon which stood half a dozen small cut-glass gob- 
lets, filled with a dark brown liquid having a smell of juniper 
about it, and a flavor of high toast. With a polite bow, and a 
Chesterfieldian flourish, he presented each of the party with one 
of these gdblets, and assumed a position of “ at rest,” while the 
others touched glasses daintily, and with the sentiment, “'Here’s 
luck !” lifted them up under their mustaches. 

Even Bill Bitters could not find it in his heart to say a word 
against this moisture, and he actually smaked his lips, although 
he turned away lest some one should see him do it. 

“ What place is this ?” asked Bleat, pointing to the left. 

“ Why, that is Fort Lee, a beautiful place, the resort of more 
festively-inclined New Yorkers than almost any other portion 
of New Jersey,” replied the captain. 

Mr. Bleat raised a pair of field-glasses and took a look. 

“ There is a sign up there, on the heights — 1 Bluff Grove.’ I 
wonder what that means.” 

“ Why, there is where they go to play bluff,” said Bubble, 
and then he broke into a hearty laugh. 

“ What are you laughing at, Bub ?” asked Bitters, with a 
frown. 

“Why — the — the joke. Where they play bluff — Bluff 
Grove. See ?” 

“ I am sorry to say, my dear sir, that I do not see anything 
that resembles a joke in the remotest degree.” 


10 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


« Did you ever see anything to laugh at, Bitters ?” asked 
Bubble, somewhat chagrined. 

“Yes; I sometimes laugh over your attempts at being 
funny.” 

« Belay that !” said the captain, checking Bitters. 

« Oh ! what a beautiful place !” said Bleat, murmuring his 
feelings from under the field-glasses. “How singular that I 
have never visited this place.” 

“ I have been here often,” said Stump. 

“ Yes,” put in Bitters, “ your father told me that you had 
got into the habit of keeping bad company.” 

“ Nonsense ! that related to my joining this club.” 

“Nothing personal, if you please, gentlemen !” said the cap- 
tain. “ Yes, Fort Lee is historic ground,” he added. 

“ Yes ; many a patriot has there found his bier,” said Bubble. 

“ Oh ! Oh ! Reef that, reef it !” replied all hands in derision, 
at which Bubble collapsed and took a long look ahead, as 
though he might possibly run upon a hidden rock, all the while 
pretending, by his looks, that he was innocent of attempting 
a joke. 

“Fort Lee, in connection with Fort Washington, opposite, 
played a conspicuous part in the Revolution, during the strug- 
gle for New York. There stood Washington while watching 
the fight for the possession of Fort Washington. But when it 
fell into the hands of the British, of course Fort Lee became 
untenable and was evacuated at once.” 

“Yes; but Washington got the best of those blarsted red- 
coats soon after,” suggested Stump. 

“ True ; he did it with his little hatchet,” said Bubble, still 
trying to look calm. 

“Again ? Take this man away, somebody ! he will drive me 
mad,” whined Bitteas, getting up and walking forward. 

“ Be charitable, Bitters !” said the captain. 


THE TRIP Ob' THE PORGIE. 


II 



“ Bitters passed around his cap and took up a collection 


for Bubble, for the purpose of buying him off.” 

“ Then I should kill our sailing-master.” 

“ I’ll tell you what to do, Bubble, when you have a funny 
thing to get off : write it on a piece of paper, place it in the 
saluting-gun, and shoot it at Bitters. It is the only way you 
can make him see it or take it.” , 

This suggestion came from plain John Stump, and a good 
laugh resulted from it, while Bitters lighted a cigar, and, lean- 
ing against the mast, tried to quiet his nerves and to recover 
from the palpable hit of the “ crew ” 


12 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


Onward, like a fleet sea-bird, sped tbe white- winged Porgie 
past Fort Lee, where the towering palisades begin, and, as 
though warming for the course with the increasing breeze, she 
seemed to hug the waves that toyed around her white breast, 
and, anon, like a flirt, to cast them aside for new lovers and 
fresh conquests. 

“ They are building castles along on the W estchester side of 
the river,” suggested Bleat, after a short silence. 

“ What for, I wonder, in republican America ?” 

“ Probably they are doing So that future generations may 
get poetic over their ruins, and compare the Hudson with the 
storied Rhine,” said Finecut. 

“ It won’t take more than a dozen years to make first-class 
ruins of the majority of them,” said Bubble. 

“ Bubble, allow me to press your flesh !” said Bitters, starting 
up suddenly and approaching his victim. “ You have at last 
said a sensible thing.” 

“Little singular how you should get hold of it,” replied 
Bubble, laughing all over, and clenching his triumph with a 
personal whack that made him feel better. 

“ O, the change of air is doing him good,” said Stump. 

« Et tu Brute /” and Bitters went forward again amid a gen- 
eral laugh. 

« Here, on our starboard side, is Mount St. Vincent, and that 
castle there, just under the shadow of the Orphan Asylum, 
once belonged to and was the dwelling-place of America’s great- 
est tragedian, Edwin Forrest,” said Finecut, at which they all 
lifted their caps with respect. 

« Yonder, still on the Westchester side, is the lunatic asylum.” 

“Ah ! Bubble, take a good look at it, for by-and-by you may 
have to reverse the scene,” said Bitters. 

“Well, there will be one consolation then that even a shat- 
tered mind will not fail to appreciate ; you will be located 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


13 


further up the river on the same side,” said Bubble, insinuating 
\ Sing Sing. 

“ Poor Bubble ! who will appreciate your jokes then ?” 

“¥e shall not have to take them with Bitters then ; shall 
we, Bub. ?” said Bleat. 

“ Ha ! Byronic sarcasm !” 

“ Gemmen, yer reg’lar ’leven is ready,” said Baster, appearing 
with a grin and a salute. 

“ Good enough ! we are ready for it.” 

“Yes ; I am as hungry as a hash-mill,” said Stump, getting 
up and making a move towards the cabin. 

“ Hold on, there, Stump !” said the captain, “ you forget that 
you are on board yacht, and that you are an ordinary sailor. 
Go to the wheel, sir !” 

“Aye, aye, sir,” he replied, with as much grace as he could. 

“ Now, then, Jack, you can sing as much as you like. Sing, 
Sing, and be happy, said Bitters, as he disappeared down the 
companion-way. 

“ Same to you, Bit.” 

And plain Jack Stump took up his position at the wheel, 
while the others refreshed themselves below. Not that he 
would not get as good as the others, for, in point of interest, he 
* owned just as much of the Porgie and their elegant club-house 
as the others did ; and, in point of worldly dollars and cents, 
he had more than any two of them. But discipline must be 
observed, and he bowed to it. Perhaps he would be president 
and captain next year himself. 

A half hour passed, and when we emerged from the cabin, 
Jack was murmuring, “ a life on the ocean wave.” 

“All right, Jack ; I’ll relieve you,” said Bleat, taking the 
wheel and waving the “ crew ” below. 

“ It would be a relief indeed, if you were not a worse singer 
than he is,” said Bitters, fitting a cigar to a holder. 


14 


THE TKIP OF THE POROIE. 


“ Bitters, you are not good after lunch,” said Bubble. 

“ Will somebody remove this gastronomic joker ?’ 

“ Fellows, here is a conundrum !” continued Bubble, blowing 
a fine cloud of smoke out of his puckered lips. 

“ Keel-haul him !” shouted Bitters, in disgust. 

“No, no; let’s hear his conundrum,” said Finecut. 

“ No ; hold him, or I will jump overboard.” 

“ Buy him off,” I suggested. 

“Well, that will do,” said Bitters, taking off his cap and 
passing it around. “ Fifteen cents !” he said, as he gathered 
the last copper. “ That is paying you well, Bub. Here ! but 
don’t presume upon us too much, and hint at another conun- 
drum whenever you get hard up. Don’t trifle with our sensitive 
natures.” 

This rather took poor Bubble aback, and he proceeded to 
get red in the face and order the first mate to alter the course 
of the Porgie a trifle, to avoid a couple of schooners that were 
beating down stream ; after which there were several moments 
of silence. 

“ What building is that on the Palisades, yonder ?” 

“ That is the Palisades Hotel, managed by the brother of the 
landlord of the renowned West Point Hotel,” said the captain. 

“A brother ? I thought it was a Cozzen ,” said Bubble, for- 
getting his late humiliation. 

“Yes; one of the Cozzens; you are right, Bub.” 

“ Captain Finecut, I don’t think you are right in encouraging 
him in his dreadful puns,” said Bitters. 

“Oh, let him alone ! We all have our little weaknesses, you 
know. 

Biters laughed a bitter laugh, and lay down on the forward 
hatch and pulled his cap over his face. Silence reigned again 
for some minutes. 

“ What place is this, here on the right ?” asked Bleat. 


Approaching Yonkers from the south. The Porgie tacking, preparatory to running in. 


THE TRIP OF TIIE PORGIE, 


15 





16 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


"That ? Do you see that low bridge there ?” 

Bleat looked through his glasses, and said yes. 

“Well, that is the railroad bridge over Spuyten Duyvil 
Creek,” replied the captain, and all hands took a look. 

“ So that is Spupten Duyvil ?” 

“ Yes, in spite of the devil,” added Bubble. 

“ Don’t get riotous with your English, Bub.,” said Bitters. 

“ Yes ; and aside from the natural beauty of the surrounding 
scenery, and the superb residences that we see twinkling through 
the lovely forests, my mind reverts to the place as an important 
point in our war for independence,” said Byron Bleat, rising 
and striking an eloquent attitude. 

“ True ; Spuyten Duyvil Creek is indeed associated not 
only with our colonial and revolutionary history, but with the 
very earliest history of the Hudson River,” said Finecut. 

“Here, on the 2d of October, 1608, 1 think it was, Henry 
Hudson had a severe fight with the Indians, who attacked the 
Half Moon with arrows and fire-brands thrown by their bows 
from the shore, as the gallant vessel lay at anchor at the mouth 
of the creek. Here, too, while Governor Stuyvesant was absent 
on the Delaware, about a thousand Indians gathered and 
threatened to destroy infant New York, that lay nestling in its 
cradle down by the Battery.” 

“ But what gave it such a devil of a name ?” asked Stump, 
who had returned from his lunch, and was wrestling with a 
Henry Clay. 

“Well, according to the popular legend, the creek receives 
its name from a pig-headed Dutchman who attempted to cross 
it in a storm, and in spite of the devil, as he said, and got 
drowned.” 

“ If that be true, it shows that the Old Boy will not be tri- 
fled with,” said Bubble, laughing. 

“It will be well for you to bear that in mind, Bub,” said Bitters. 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE, 


17 



Byeoh Bleat and his beautiful Yonkers flame. “We found 

IIIM PROMENADING IN THE SAME PLACE WHERE WE LEFT HIM 
THE NIGHT BEFORE.” 


18 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


The breeze that had wafted us along so delighfully fast had 
died partially out, and as the tide was against the graceful 
breast of the Porgie , we made but slow progress from Spuyten 
Duyvil, and gave all hands a chance to indulge in all the 
leisure singing or story-telling they desired. Bitters lay 
stretched out on the forward hatch asleep, while the others 
discussed now and then a glass of prime old wine, a fine cigar, 
or indulged in gossip about the important places we passed. 

As the wind threatened to die out completely, Captain Fine- 
cut concluded to run into Yonkers, drop anchor, and take a 
spin about the place, and if the breeze did not freshen, to re- 
main there all night. This idea pleased all hands. 

While slowly approaching beautiful Yonkers, Byron Bleat 
(he pronounces his name Pie- at, remember,) grew poetical, and 
was with difficulty restrained from breaking out into rapturous 
verse. Well, he was not to blame for it ; the scene was lovely 
indeed. 

Beyond, to the left, rose the rough-hewn sides of the Pali- 
sades, verdure-crowned and thunder-proof ; on the right nestled 
the garden city of the Hudson, with its elegant villas and vine- 
clad cottages twinkling white amid the waving green. 

On the bosom of the lake-river where we rode, sped the 
graceful steamers, and near by, a pretty boat with a merry 
party of lasses, resting on their oars and waiting to catch the 
tilting swell of the long waves that the steamers send Y-shaped 
toward either shore. 

How delightfully cool, and how pleasant the sight, as the sun 
sends its long shadows, down from the hills beyond, over the 
surface of the water, and we doze with the dying wind and 
contemplate the dust, the heat, and the turmoil of the city that 
we have left far behind ! 

Well, here we are at Yonkers ! bright, beautiful, aristocratic 
Yonkers-on-the-Hudson ! It seems only a season or two ago 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


19 


since it was simply a pretty, quiet little village ; now, it is an 
earnest, bustling, thriving city of sixteen thousand inhabitants, 
possessing a mayor and corporation. All hail, Yonkers ! 

Our sails slide quietly down, our anchor plunges in search 
of mud, and the graceful Porgie swings around with the tide, 
tied fast herself, and nestles down to her evening lullaby in 
front of the town. 

, “ Julius,” said the captain, to the steward, after we had par- 
taken of the evening specimens of his art, “ we are going ashore 
.and may not be back to-night.” 

“ Yes, sah !” 

The yacht is in your charge. See to it !” 

“ Certain, sah, shuer !” 

This settled the preliminaries, and, taking the jolly-boat that 
lolled astern, we started for the shore. 

The sun had already set, and the hazy twilight fell like a 
sheen or a gauzy nightcap over the scene as the “ crew ” dipped 
the glistening blades and insinuated the other blades nearer to 
the shore. It was a glorious hour, and we all felt like doing 
the city in a thorough manner. Quite a crowd of idlers of 
both sexes stood on the wharf as we clambered upon it, and a 
bevy of beautiful Yonkeresses with their snowy kerchiefs 
waved us a welcome. 

Byron Bleat was smitten by one of them violently. He 
hesitated, flirted, edged towards them, and finally spoke. He 
appeared to be perfectly at home with his charmer in less than 
five minutes, and so we left him and strolled on towards the 
town. We knew him too well to think of waiting for or coax- 
ing him to accompany us. 

Leaving the wharf, we crossed the Hudson River Railroad 
and struck up into the city. The lights were burning brightly^ 
and a gay throng hurried or sauntered along the streets. Of 
course, the city is unl ike New York, but it has the same nature 


20 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


in it ; is water-veined and gas-windpiped like the metropolitan 
giant, but, being virtuous yet in its youth, it is free from the 
black crimes and immoral looseness that dwells in the atmos- 
phere of New York. Long be it so ! 

We purchased one or two New York evening papers, and 
after walking through the business portion of the young city 
we struck upon Broadway and started for the higher land, for 
homes where wealth and art have done so much, and whither 
the soft twilight and the breath of flowers invited us. 

Broadway, Yonkers, is one of the prettiest streets in the 
world. Up, up you go, leaving the business portion of the city 
behind, until you attain such an elevation as enables you to look 
over the houses below and obtain a clear view of the broad 
river-and the frowning Palisades beyond it. Beautiful mansions 
and elegant grounds are seen on every side. Flowers, shrub- 
bery, birds, grand old trees, tastefully arranged lawns — every- 
thing that taste can suggest and a well-filled purse procure. 

“Ah ! ho, ho ! he, he !” roared Bubble, pointing to a sign on 
the opposite side of the street. 

“ What is the matter, Bub. ?” asked Bitters, seizing him by 
the arm. “ It can’t be possible that you intend inflicting 
another one of your jokes upon us.’' 

“ No ; but look at that sign. Is it not a joke in itself ? ‘Quick,. 
Undertaker .’ See ?” he asked. 

“ I think it very appropriate,” said Finecut. “ The quick are 
the proper ones to take care of the dead? 

“A grave subject for jokes, I should say,” said Bitters as we 
passed along, admiring the beautiful surroundings. 

“ Here we are ; let us go into the Peabody House, kept by 
L. U. Maltby, one of the best landlords of. one of the best 
hotels on the Hudson River. Come !” 

Now, come to think of it, travellers don’t need to be told 
that the Peabody House is a good place to stop at. Here we 


THE TKIP OE TIIE P0EG1E. 


21 



Waving a fond adiett to the Don Juan of the Sabdine Club. 

found the landlord and several of his boon and genial friends, 
and after partaking of cheer we took one of his carriages for a 
drive about the place. 

There is lots to be seen in Yonkers, and some that has quite 
a claim to antiquity. For instance, there is the old Philipse 
manor-house, that was built in 1682, and which once belonged 
to the so-called lords of Philipse manor. It is a grand old relic 
of the past, and will be found standing when the “castles” and 
mansions of to-day have gone to decay. Here was born and 


22 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


lived Maiy Philipse, whom Washington loved but could not 
win, and who is said, moreover, to have been the original of 
the heroine in Cooper’s novel of The Spy. 

This grand old relic was lately purchased by the corporation 
of Yonkers, and converted into a City Hall, although the exte- 
rior has undergone no alteration. It is a curious mixture of 
Dutch and English architecture, and is antique enough to sat- 
isfy any American. 

“ Are there any 1 Washington’s Headquarters ’ in this place 
asked Stump of Finecut, who had been entertaining us with, 
these and other historical reminiscences. 

“ I believe not ; that is, military head-quarters. Yonkers 
appears to have escaped that distinction somehow. But from 
what history tells us he had a transient social headquarters for 
a time at the old manor-house where Molly Philipse lived.’’ 

Well, well, space will not admit of recording all that was 
said and done at Yonkers by the Sardine Club. We did not 
return to the yacht that night, but rested beneath the roof of 
the Peabody House, after visiting sundry points of interest and 
having a glorious good time generally. Sleep never caught up 
with us until quite early in the morning, consequently it was 
late before we made our appearance on the wharf the next day. 

But when we did arrive we found the smitten Byron Bleat 
standing there with the object of his sudden adoration, holding 
both her hands in his, and looking down into her upturned 
eyes and quoting all the poetry he could think of. We were 
not certain that they had not stood there all night, just as 
we had left them. But we afterwards learned that he walked 
and talked with her until midnight, and that they had met 
there again by appointment as we found them. 

We got into the waiting jolly-boat and whistled to attract 
his attention, but it was no use, he was drunk with love, and 
we rowed out to the Porgie and sent Baster back to bring him. 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


23 


Even this was scarcely a success, for not until the steward had 
gone up to and pulled him respectfully by the sleeve two or 
three times did he seem to comprehend that there was a jour- 
ney to be completed, that the Stuffed Club waited our coming. 

Then followed a separation that took nearly half-an-hour, 
during which it was evident that the young lady was quite as 
deep in the mire as he was in the mud of love, and then as he 
was at length detached and was being rowed towards the yacht, 
he waved his handkerchief and exchanged long-range kisses 
with the fair young thing who stood upon the wharf. 

“We shall take you ashore in a burglar-proof safe when we 
land again,” said Bitters. 

“ You have kept us waiting until the tide has turned,” growled 
Finecut, in no very angelic humor. 

But Bleat heard not, saw not, cared not a snap for anything 
but the beautiful blonde angel in white that stood there on the 
wharf, still waving her kerchief. 

“ Up with the sails and anchor,” shouted Finecut. “ Nothing 
but actual distance will bring him to his senses.” 

The anchor came on board, and the sails again caught the 
breeze, and, although struggling against the tide, we soon glided 
from the sight of the white-panniered angel. 

“ Farewell, beautiful vision !” murmured Bleat, with his eyes 
still bent in the same direction. 

“ Speak louder,” said Bitters. 

Byron Bleat turned to him with a frown. 

“ Oh ! he’s all right yet,” said Bubble, at which all hands 
laughed, and Bleat changed color and position. 

“ Gentlemen, laugh as much you like, but that is the only 
girl I ever really loved,” replied he. 

“ She is about the tenth ‘ only one ’ that I have heard you 
mention within a month,” said Bitters. 

“Bah!” 


24 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


Baster put in. a wholesome appearance about this point and 
announced breakfast. We took a last look at Yonkers and 
went below, leaving Jack Stump at tbe wheel, trying to make 
himself believe he wasn’t hungry by singing his favorite song, 
“A Life on the Ocean Wave.” 



THE TEIP OF THE POEGIE. 


25 


TACK SECOND. 

Those who embarked with us from New York of course feel 
perfectly well acquainted with each member of the party by 
this time, while those who do not can turn back to their por- 
traits at the head of first chapter. 

After breakfast the company was in a somewhat better humor 
than when we left them, and as we came on deck to relieve 
John Stump who had taken the wheel during our absence, sev- 
eral Henry Clays were ignited and the wire edge of the night 
before was gradually worn away. As for the “ crew,” he went 
below to take the wire edge off his appetite. 

The JPorgie was clipping along through the water at the sug- 
gestion of a freshening breeze that promised a fine day’s run, 
and the elegant yacht never looked more beautiful in the world 
than now. 

Conversation wasn’t very brisk at first, but they swept into 
it by degrees, and by the time Stump returned to the deck one 
would hardly have supposed that a breeze had ruffled the tem- 
per of any of them. Even Byron Bleat appeared to forget his 
late enchantment at Yonkers, and became again a sensible fel- 
low and a good companion. 

A short distance above Yonkers is Dudley’s Grove, a well- 
known picnic and excursion ground, where oceans of festivity 
and notions of fun have been indulged in for many years past. 
A barge and steamboat were just landing a joyous crowd as we 
passed the point. 

Bleat murmured in tune : “ What are the wild waves say- 
ing ? ” and Bitters replied : 

“ Give it up. Too early for conumdrums, Bleat.” 

This induced a slight ripple, and Bleat subsided. 

“ Ah ! what little hamlet is this here on the right ? ” 

“ Hamlet ! Hamlet ! ” exclaimed Captain Finecut, “ you had 


26 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


not venture ashore and ask that question, Mr. Bitters. That is 
Hastings-on-Hudson, as the inhabitants delight iu calling it. 
It is really a smart little place, somewhat given to sand-banks, 
but it is destined to be an important town.” 

“ Havn’t you anything funny to say about Hastings, Bubble ?” 
asked Bitters, turning to that individual for relief. 

“ "Well, no, only that it would be a good place for burglars.” 

“ What ! burglars ? Why so, Bub. ?” 

“ Because the owners are careless with their banks. Sand- 
banks, see ? ” 

A moment of ludicrous silence followed. Hot a smile dis- 
turbed the features of any of the party. At length Bitters 
spoke : 

“ Gentlemen, I beg your pardon. I really had no intention 
of developing such a stupid conundrum, although I might 
have expected it from Bubble. But perhaps none of you mis- 
trusted that a joke was perpetrated or intended.” 

We all shook our heads and looked solemn. 

“Well, it’s all right then ; I will be more careful in future. 
Gentlemen, our sailing master has nothing funny to say about 
Hastings ; so let us pass.” 

“I wish you would take it up,” growled Bubble, looking half 
mad at his tormentor. 

“ Why, if Hastings should take up with me, or I with it, 
there would be nobody on board to explain your jokes. Ho, 
no, you cannot wish that, Bubble.” 

Bubble looked like a hungry meat-saw. 

“ Gentlemen,” said Bleat, “ I object to the course of the sec- 
ond mate towards our sailing-master and his little joke. I 
propose a vote of confidence in Mr. Bubble.” 

This being agreed to amid much merriment, it had the effect 
of restoring good*humor and wiping out all old scratches. A 
song was started, and before it was finished J ulius Baster, the 


Sunntside, tile home of "Washington Irving, as seen from the railroad and river. 


the trip of the porgie 


27 








28 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGUE. 


colored steward, put in an appearance with the silver tray, on 
which stood six fine cut glasses filled with brown liquid in 
which floated a bit of lemon peel. He also had an open box of 
cigars. 

The mixture was carefully drained from the tiny glasses, and 
the cigars being lighted, it was agreed that the equilibrium 
was fully restored, and a pleasant chat followed. 

“ Gentlemen, we are now opposite Irvington, which you all 
know was once the residence of America’s great literateur , and 
since named in his honor. Ah ! there is “ Sunnyside,” his for 
mer residence, just now twinkling through the foliage.” 

We all followed with our eyes the index finger of Captain 
Finecut, and beheld the shrine at which the whole world kneels 
in respectful admiration for the gentle, unassuming magician 
who once dwelt there and hallowed with pleasant wierdness 
everything about the neighborhood. 

“ I propose stopping at Tarry town and visiting some of the 
points of interest that are found there. What do you say, 
gentlemen ? ” asked the Captain. 

We all agreed to it, except Bitters. 

“ I will agree to it on two conditions, which are, that Bubble 
attempts no jokes and Bleat no amour.” 

Even this was soon arranged, and the Porgie was headed for 
the little cove that marks the high and low village of Tarry- 
town. In half an hour we were ready to go ashore, leaving 
the yacht in charge of Baster, as before. 

After landing, our first stopping-place was at the Revere 
House, a pleasant, old-fashioned tavern that stands near the 
Hudson River Railroad Depot. Our prime object was to get a 
conveyance, and perchance, a guide. 

John E. Smith, the presiding genius of the Revere, gave us 
a welcome, and at once placed us upon the right track so far as 


THE TKIP OF THE POKGEE. 


29 


directions were concerned, and ordered a carriage to enable us 
S to follow them. 

A person sees but little of Tarrytown at or around tbe land- 
ing. It seems only like a country town from any of tbe land- 
ing points, but once you leave and ascend tbe bill, yon see one 
of tbe most beautiful landscapes and garden-towns to be found 
in tbe country. 

Tbe desired carriage and driver-guide was obtained, and 
taking seats we were soon spinning up Broadway. Every 
town on tbe Hudson bas a Broadway, and not unfrequently 
there is a broad way between tbe different places. 

Tbe driver bad us in charge, and tbe first point of interest 
that be took us to was tbe Andre monument, a plain, substan- 
tial shaft of granite, as firm as were tbe hearts and patriotism 
of tbe noble men in whose honor it was erected by a grateful 
people. 

“You all know tbe history of Arnold’s treason and of 
Andre’s capture,” said Captain Finecut, getting down from bis 
seat and approaching tbe fence which surrounds the monument. 
“ The inscription tells tbe rest ; I will read it. 

ON THIS SPOT 

The 23d day of September, 1780, the Spy, 

MAJOR JOHN ANDRE, 

Adjutant-General of the British Army, was captured by 
JOHN PAULDING, DAVID WILLIAMS AND ISAAC VAN WART. 

HISTOBY HAS TOLD THE BEST. 

The People of Westchester County have erected this Monument as well 
to Commemorate a great Event as to testify their high estimation of that 
Integrity and Patriotism which, rejecting every temptation, rescued the 
United States from Imminent peril, by baffling the acts of a Spy and the 
plots of a traitor. 


Dedicated Octobee 7, 1853. 


30 


THE TRIP OP THE PORGIE, 



Old Mill” and Washington’s Headquarters at Sleepy Hollow, Tarrytown. Built in 

1686, by the Lords of the Philipse Manor. 








THE TBIP OF THE PORGIE. 


81 


“ Yonder stands the great chestnut tree where those sturdy 
yeomen were concealed, watching Cow-Boys and Tories, when 
the unfortunate Britisher happened along,” said the driver, 
pointing in an indefinite direction. The fact is, this old historic 
tree has disappeared entirely, but the guides still have a habit 
of pointing it out in a vague sort of a way, as though they 
could not forget the lesson they had learned in their youth. 

“ Indeed ! Then it must be the same tree of which Irving 
wrote, and under which Ichabod Crane met the dreadful head- 
less Hessian on his return from courting Katrina Yan Tassell,” 
said Bleat. 

“ Without doubt.” 

“ Pah ! I smell something sulphurous even now,” said Bubble. 

“ Nonsense. It is ‘ Gunpowder ’ that you smell,” said Bitters, 
turning sadly towards the sailing-master. lie intended this 
for a joke, but failed to make the desired hit. 

“Yes, the horse Ichabod rode,” put in the driver. 

“Very good. Well, let us now go to Sleepy Hollow.” 

We took a last look at the commemorative monument, and 
then turned to the contemplation of the beauties around us. 
The scene was truly magnificent. How well might Irving say : 
“ No, never need an American look beyond his own country 
for the sublime and beautiful of natural scenery.” We thought 
so too. 

The scene has vastly changed from what it was in his day — 
so far as relates to immediate surroundings of noble mansions, 
tasteful private parks and lawns ; but the same glorious Hud- 
son sweeps along below, the same wild (and by him made 
almost weird) Highlands are to be seen farther up ; and the 
same Palisades, which here break up into abrupt undulations, 
leaving a delightful sight for Piermont and Nyack, just oppo- 
site to us ; the same blue sky and purple distance ; the same 
grand old trees throwing their perfume upon the wind, are here 


32 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


as when he walked, and wrote, and loved in these quiet dells. 

We were now just entering the stilly precints of Sleepy 
Hollow, a place made forever memorable by Irving’s pen and 
the deeds of patriots. How well we knew it, even without 
being told by our guide ! The same drowsy, dreamy influence 
seemed to be hovering over the quiet vale that Irving mentions, 
and even while the noontide sun was pouring down its rays, 
we could almost feel the spell of enchantment settling over the 
region, and not a long stretch of the imagination did it require 
to bring up dozens of the wild phantoms and terrible sprites 
upon whom the early Dutch settlers dwelt with so much alarm 
and interest on long winter evenings. 

Nothing can be truer (and all feel it who enter this seemingly 
charmed vale of the little Pocantico) than the description Wash- 
ington Irving has given of Sleepy Hollow. He says : “ From 
the listless repose of the place, and the peculiar character of its 
inhabitants, wlio are descendants from the original Dutch set- 
tlers, this sequestered glen has long been known by the name 
of Sleepy Hollow, and its rustic lads are called Sleepy Hollow 
Boys throughout all the neighboring country. A drowsy, 
dreamy influence seems to hang over the land and to pervade 
the very atmosphere. Some say that the place was bewitched 
by a High German doctor, during the early settlement ; others, 
that an old Indian chief, the prophet or wizard of his tribe, 
held his pow-wows there before the country was discovered by 
Master Hendrick Hudson. Certain it is, that the place still 
continues under the sway of some witching power that holds a 
spell over the minds of the good people, causing them to walk 
in a continual reverie. They are given to all kinds of marvel- 
ous beliefs ; are subject to trances and visions, and frequently 
see strange sights, and hear music and voices in the air. The 
whole neighborhood abounds with local tales, haunted spots, 
and twilight superstitions; stars shoot and meteors glare 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


8 3 


oftener across the valley than in any part of the country, and 
the nightmare, with her whole nine fold, seems to make it the 
favorite scene of her gambols.” 

It was all there, true to nature. The very birds sing more 
lazily, and all animation has a drowsiness that would be pro- 
voking, did not the same influence seize upon the visitor and 
make him happily akin. 

Even our horses felt it. (Or was it because they were en- 
gaged by the hour ?) But of course we didn’t mind, so long 
as we felt it too. As we turned into the road that leads over 
the bridge spanning the little stream, called the Pocantico, we 
beheld an old school-house, which, for ought a stranger might 
say, was the identical one where Ichabod Crane taught ; “ and 
by fancy, we could hear from thence, on a drowsy summer’s 
day, the low rnurmer of pupil’s voices, conning over their les- 
sons, sounding like the hum of a bee-hive.” But we could not 
vouch for it, neither would our driver, although he seemed rea- 
sonably willing to give us entire satisfaction. 

We crossed the bridge, now a substantial one, and probably 
less haunted than in the days of Ichabod Crane, and turning 
to the left we started down a lane towards “ The Old Mill,” 
sacred to tradition, romance and history. 

The old mill is not what it was a few years ago, nor as it is 
represented in many of the engravings, although Mr. Worth 
has succeeded admirably in the one herewith presented. The 
sweeping willows almost hide it from view; the old wheel, that 
once swallowed up the waters of the Pocantico, has been re- 
moved, and the old landmark of past generations is fast passing 
away. It was built in 1686, and for many years the same old 
stones that now remain, furnished flour and meal for all the 
country round about. A silk factory of the period now glow- 
ers upon it from the opposite bank, and makes it appear even 
more insignificant. 


34 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


We inspected the interior and exterior, and Byron Bleat even 
waxed eloquent and poetic over it. I did neither, but I captured 
brick that was brought over from Holland, a piece of the old 
shingle covering it, and a wrought nail that helped to hold the 
old cripple together. These relics are now in my sanctum, and 
I could but think, as I drove the nail into my partition, what 
about the man who drove that nail last before me. Alas ! he 
is probably dead. 

Another feature of this place, and standing only a few yards 
from the mill, is the old Washington Headquarters. There can 
be no doubt about this, as history has given us the account of 
its occupancy. This building was originally built by the Phil- 
ipses, and was for a long time known as “ Castle Philipse.” It 
was, before Mr. Jones modernized its exterior, a quaint old stone 
building, built about the same time as the old mill, but a deal 
more substantial, and in the troublesome times with the Indians 
has often figured conspicuously as a place of refuge and defense. 

A gallant Irishman, Finton Quirk, was keeping the place, 
and he entertained us handsomely, and told us much that was 
interesting regarding it. Captain Finecut interviewed him for 
the benefit of the party. 

“Well, gentlemen, the place is now owned by Mr. Jones, 
who has modernized the old Headquarters, as you see. I have 
been here six years, during which time these alterations have 
been going on. I have myself laid out the grounds, and have 
dug up several relics in the shape of arrow-heads and bullets. 
And I dug up a cannon-ball that weighed ten pounds, which I 
sold to a man for a dollar a pound, so I did. Come around on 
the back side of the house, gentlemen, and you will see that the 
old house is still to be seen. Faith, Mr. Jones hadn’t the heart 
to cover it all up. Here you see the old walls just as they 
were, except that the port-holes that used to look out over the 
creek here beyont, to kape an eye on the bloody Indians that 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


35 



The old Church at Sleepy Hollow, adjoining the graveyard 
in which Washington Irving is buried ; the church where 
Ichabod Crane used to sing and worship Katrina Van 
Tassell. Built 1699, by the lords of the Philipse Manor. 



86 


THE TRIP OF THE FORGIE. 


used ter come up for mischief, they are windows now. The 
walls are fully two feet thick, and were built to stand. While 
it was used as Washington’s Headquarters, the old mill ground 
grain for the great man and the illigant gintleman as was wid 
him.” 

We voted Mr. Quirk an eloquent success. 

After showing us about the place and assisting us to relics, 
Mr. Quirk bade us a profound good-by and a happy continua- 
tion of our journey. Thanking him, we entered our carriage, 
and were driven out to the main road again ; up to the old 
Dutch Church that stands on the hill overlooking this peaceful 
vale of grim history and captivating romance. A capital en- 
graving of this old relic is herewith presented. 

It is the same old church of which Irving wrote. It may 
well be called a relic of the past, considering the age of the 
country, having been built in 1699, by Lord and Lady Philipse, 
of Yonkers. A quaint old building it is, with antique spire and 
gable roof ; with thick stone walls, well whitewashed, and an 
interior unaltered since the days when Ichabod Crane led the 
choir, and threw his killing glances at the luscious Katrina 
Van Tassell. We contemplated it with feelings of veneration 
and interest. Bleat took his note-book from his pocket and be- 
gan a poem on it, while Tom Bubble attempted a joke. 

The jolting of the carriage, which had now started, put a stop 
to Bleat, and Bitters choked off the joker with a frown. 

From the old church we drove slowly up the hill, path the 
weather-beaten and crumbling tombstones that thickly dot the 
yard adjoining it, where 

“ Each in his narrow cell forever laid, 

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.” 

Reaching the entrance of the upper and newer portion of the 
cemetery, we were driven through its beautiful paths, noting 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


37 


the various triumphs of art that love or friendship had reared 
above the sleepers, from the grand and costly specimen to the 
most lowly slab that honest poverty had erected. 

Presently, we halted at a family yard. Without a word we 
followed our captain and entered the enclosure. We were 
stapding on gronnd hallowed by the dust of Washington Irving. 
With uncovered heads we listened while he read from a plain 
white slab that stands in the centre of a modest row, as simple 
and unpretending as that of the humblest clod : 

WASHINGTON, 

Son of William and Sarah H. Irving, 

DIED 

Nov. 28, 1859, 

Aged 76 years, 8 mo., and 25 days. 

What simplicity in death ! How well it accorded with the 
charming simplicity of his life. 

“Do you remember his funeral ?” asked Finecut of the driver. 

“ Ah, indeed I do. I was standing here when his body was 
brought to the grave. It was a day of mourning around here 
as well as in the whole land. There was a great and sad gath- 
ering of all the notables in the country.” 

After contemplating the humble shrine for a short time, we 
returned to our seats in the carriage and started to return. The 
view from the cemetery is truly beautiful. The peaceful valley 
of Sleepy Hollow below; beyond the lake-river, the noble 
Hudson ; beyond that, the Highlands, that nestled in verdure 
and dreamy haze, while on all sides as far as the eye could 
reach were villages and mansions embowered in a plumage of 
graceful green. 

Back again down the hill, past the old church ; over the 
bridge that spans the lazy stream that erst gave life to the 
crumbling mill beyond ; past scenes touched by the hand of 
fate or love ; past the monument that commemorates a fortune 


38 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


and a mistake ; past historical mansions ; and on and on through 
the lovely town, where still may be seen traces of a former 
race, and onward to “ Sunnyside,” the loved home of Irving. 

It is a green, sheltered nook, just such a one as a person 
might expect to find him in and in love with. After inspect- 
ing the interior, including his study, we were treated to its his- 
tory by Captain Finecut, who was probably indebted to the 
“Sketch Book” for it. Upon its site once stood the “Roost” 
of the famous Wolfert Ecker. It afterwards passed into the 
possession of Irving’s father, and was enlarged and beautified 
by Washington Irving. It is a quaint affair, with its old 
weathercocks and crow-stepped gables, and its memories. 

He pointed out, over the porch, the following inscription : 

“Erected, anno. 1650. Re-Built by Washington 
Irving, anno. 1835.” 

The quiet Tappan Zee flows near at hand, the river he loved 
well enough to embalm in living prose ; and the surrounding 
grounds are lovely in their diversity of wooded ravines and 
gentle undulations, shaded and flower-crowned, almost as he 
arranged and left them. 

But enough in this serious vein, unless the reader will pardon 
a quotation from Irving’s “ Stafford-on- Avon.” It seems so 
very appropriate that I run the risk. 

“ He who has sought renown about the world, and has reaped 
a full harvest of worldly favor, will find, after all, that there is 
no love, no admiration, no applause so sweet to the soul as that 
which springs up in his native place. It is there that he seeks 
to be gathered in peace and honor among his kindred of his 
early friends. And, when the weary heart and failing head 
begins to warn him that that the evening of life is drawing on, 
he turns as fondly as does an infant to its mother’s arms, to sink 
to sleep in the bosom of the scene of his childhood.” 


Confusion and disappointment of the old darkey who had fastened his scow to the stern of 

TIIE “ PoRGIE ” AS SHE LAY AT ANCHOR IN THE MOONLIGHT, AND WENT TO SLEEP UNDER THE IMPRESSION 
THAT IIE WAS GETTING A “ TOW ” UP THE RIVER. 


39 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 





40 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


He was speaking of Shakespeare ; how great the truth, and 
how happily did it apply to his own case ! 

Back again to the Revere House from whence we started. 
The sun was losing itself to this part of the country, behind 
the western hills, as we discharged our driver and guide, and 
entered the bar-room. All hands appeared glad that the senti- 
mental journey was over, although not one of us was there who 
had not enjoyed it very much. 

Tom Bubble suggested refreshments, and we ranged ourselves 
before the high old-fashioned bar. 

“ What shall it be, gents ? ” asked Smith. 

Tom gave the order in this way : 

“Dear sir, we fain would partake of the distillation of potato, 
liquid crystal to the sense of vision and grateful to the olfacto- 
ries by reason of juniper berries. Let there be a modicum of 
High Toast and the flavor of lemon about the concoction, that 
our parched throats may be moistened and our hearts remem- 
ber you gratefully.” 

“ Thunder and blazes, Mr. Boy, what’s the matter ? ” asked 
Smith, starting back in utter amazement. 

“ Oh, bah ! he only wants a gin-cocktail,” growled Bitters 
turning away to hide his disgust. 

“ Yes, yes, gin-cocktails, that’s the way we call them in Tarry- 
town,” said the barkeeper, and in short order we were made 
happy. 

Thanking him for his kindness, we left the place and started 
down towards the wharf to go on board the Porgie. Bleat 
met a young lady with whom he was acquainted. Such a glad 
mortal as he was ! It was his first love in Tarrytown. She 
was from New York, and was attending school there. We ex 
pected a delay, and hailed him gently after we had passed on a 
few rods, and told him we were going to sail right away. He 
called John Stump to come to him, and requested him to say to 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


41 


us that he had found a cousin, and was going home to dine with 
her ; that he would meet us at "West Point, going- by rail. 

This settled it and we rowed out to the yacht. It was by 
this time quite dart, but the jib was still up, fluttering in a 
head- wind. As we stepped on board we aroused Baster, who 
had been meditating with his eyes shut, and he was quickly on 
his feet ready to receive us. 

An old darkey had fastened his dug-out to the stern of our 
yacht, and had quietly gone to sleep. We disturbed him. 

“ What are you doing there ? ” asked the Captain 
“ Wa ? ” exclaimed the old fellow, springing bolt upright, 
“ oh, boss, ’cuse me, I was only getting a tow up de ribber.” 

“ Getting a tow, oh ? How long have you been here ? ” 

“ Well, ’bout an hour, I guess.” 

“ And didn’t you know the yacht was at anchor ? ” 

“ Goll — for — mighty, boss; See I’s a little bline — no ! Am 
she ? ” he asked, looking around. 

“Am she!” and amid a loud roar of laughter that disap- 
pointed old dark paddled away towards a passing sloop, with 
a look of disgust on his face that would have turned sweet milk. 

But, up came our anchor, and once more the white- winged 
Porgie spread her sails, and away she went, beating our way 
towards West Point. 



42 


THE TRIP OF THE POBGIE. 


TACK THIRD. 

The shadows from the Highlands, behind which the sun had 
dropped, lay coolly upon the bosom of the waters, and scarcely 
a ripple disturbed the subdued mirror through which we were 
slowly gliding. 

The breeze had died nearly out, and the yacht had every 
inch of canvass out as we stood over towards the opposite shore. 
Had the day been longer we should have crossed over to Nyack 
and visited the old Tappan House, the famous headquarters of 
Washington. But we had to go. 

The scenery from Tarrytown, for fifty miles, is the most 
beautiful and romantic to be found fringing any river in the 
world, and the Sardine Club was composed of just the right 
material to appreciate it, and indeed, where is the person that 
cannot ? 

As we left Tarrytown the sun was far down behind the hills 
of the Highlands. The river, especially near either shore, was 
as placid as a tree-sheltered lake, and the hills seemed to be 
looking down into those crystal depths, proud of their reflected 
majesty ; white-plumed pleasure-boats and the more sedate 
crafts of burden held up their wings to catch the uncertain 
breeze. Steamboats sped along like huge, mighty swans, and 
pompous tug-boats, like Bantam roosters, fretted and strutted 
about, and ever and anon, the voice of singers reached us from 
under the branches of the willows that dipped their graceful 
verdure in the silver and shadow of the river. The warm tints 
of a July sunset lent their borrowed colors to the scene, and 
garnished everything with a flood of beauty. 

Night soon closed in and the steward summond us below 
for supper. This appeared to us all to be one of the most sen- 
sible moves of the day, for after our ramble there was not the 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


43 


slightest doubt but that we were each provided with an appe- 
tite. 

Then we came on deck to enjoy the beauties of the evening 
and allowed our sailing-master, Tom Bubble, to go below and 
fill his compass, while Captain Finecut went to the wheel. The 
river widens as we approach Sing Sing, and a fresher and more 
accommodating breeze was now bellying the sails of the gallant 
JPorgie, that now leaned over and bore her white breast deep 
into the rippling waters. 

The moon was shining with light which almost equaled that 
of noonday, and the scene seemed to be touched and gilded by 
the wand of an enchanter. On one side of the river the hills 
looked down dark and forbidding, like grim sentries placed 
there to guard the entrance to this fairy-land, while on the 
other the cool light of evening’s queen made those grand old 
hills stand out in all their beauty of bold relief and silvered 
fringe. 

Now we sweep past Sing Sing, where unmusical rogues fret 
the bars of many a gloomy cell. It is a pretty place but for 
this scar of correction, and over the waters that glittered be- 
tween us and the shore distant lights twinkled sleepily amid 
the foliage. 

“ Take a good look at those huge stone building, Bitters, and 
just imagine how you will feel when the scene is reversed, and 
you are looking out upon the river,” said Tom Bubble, coming 
up from below, and again taking the wheel. 

“ Have we a jokist in our midst ? ” asked Bitters, with great 
concern. 

“We see no joke,” replied several. 

“ Oh ! I wasn’t certain but that Bubble was jo kin g,” 

“ That was good advice, Bitters, and wasn’t intended for a 
joke,” replied Bubble. u Stand clear ! ” he added, bringing the 
yacht about. 


44 


THE TRIP OF THE POUGIE. 


“ Of what — your advice ? ” 

“No, of the boom,” said Bubble, laughing, as it swung around 
and knocked his tormentor’s cap off. 

“If your jokes hit as hard as your seamanship does, we 
should all stand clear.” 

The evening wore on and the breeze increased until it re- 
quired the closest attention of Bubble and the “ crew,” Jack 
Stump, to sail the yacht ; in fact, up to ten o’clock, all hands 
were required on deck almost continually, and a good share of 
hard work and some anxiety was indulged in by all, except the 
invited guest, of course. He was below, being above such 
things. But that invited guest came up as the breeze went 
down. 

“ What place is this here on the left ? ” asked Stump. 

“ This, this — let me see. Oh, this is Haverstraw.” 

“No, thank you, I’ll take mine by the word of mouth,” said 
Bubble, grinning all over his face and looking anxiously ahead. 

“ What ? ” we all asked, approaching him with some concern. 

“ Oh, I thought we were about having liquid refreshments^ 
and some one asked me if I would have a straw, that’s all,” he 
replied, trying to look solemn. 

“ That is all? There was no joke intended ?” asked Bitters. 

“ Not the slightest.” 

“ Well, all right, then. But be assured, seductive youth, that 
had you confessed that you intended that fora joke, we should 
have thrown you overboard,” replied Bitters, walking away. 

“ But what of Haverstraw ? ” asked Stump, still looking at 
the low line of brick-yards which marks the place and fringes 
its river front. 

“ Well, so far as history is concerned, it was at the house of 
one Smith (not John Smith, thank heaven !) that the traitor 
Arnold met Major Andre, and consummated the treason that 
came near changing the political fate of the whole world. It 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


45 



Bitters comes to greif and Bubble scores one for himself. 


•was from this house that Andre started, in company with 
“Treason ” Smith, to return to New York. We know what 
befel him at Tarrytown,” said Captain Finecut. 

“ And there is another thing there,” suggested Bubble. 

“ Which is it ? ” queried Bitters, again approaching him. 

“ Bricks. There is a brick-mine there, Bitters.” 

“ Thank goodness that joke is not mine? 

“ Ah, but that feeble pun is a child of yours.” 

“Yes, and only a short distance above there is a lime-mine. w 


46 


THE TRIP OF THE PORUIE. 


“ Yes, between here and Grassy Point.” 

“Nature appears to have distrusted her abilities up this 
way.” 

“ Why so, Bubble ? ” 

“ W ell, if she had not she would have furnished a house-mine 
at once, instead of placing the bricks in one place and the lime 
in another. 

“Well, I suppose we shall have to put up with these things 
from Bubble,” said Bitters, deprecatingly. “ He is our sailing- 
master, and can send us to Davy Jones if he likes ; but it’s 
hard, very hard.” 

“ Your bunk below is not so hard, perhaps,” retorted Bubble. 

“ Perhaps you mean to insinuate that if I do not choose to 
stand your insane attempts at being funny, that I can go to 
bed.” 

“ I didn’t think you was so keen, Bit.” 

“Long suffering will make the dullest keen.” 

“ Belay that chaffing,” said the captain. “We are now get- 
ting into the Narrows, and, as the river winds abruptly, let 
Bubble have his whole attention for the yacht.” 

Bitters laughed and went below. I remained on deck with 
Captain Finecut, for the surrounding beauties wrought upon 
me like some spell of wierd enchantment. 

The river in this vicinity is forced into narrow confines, and 
the hills, rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun, gather closer to- 
gether and mock each other with their echoes. One above 
another they rose in the full moonlight as far as the eye could 
reach. On the heights there dwelt a light, and in the vales a 
shade. This outlined their forms, and there was just uncer- 
tainty enough in the filmy vail to hide the scars that nature 
marked them with at their birth. 

Before rounding Grassy Point the river seems to come 
abruptly to an end, so sharp is the bend, and only a mile above 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


47 


is Stony Point, a very interesting and picturesque spot. During 
the Revolution there was a redoubt on this point, and another 
on Yerplanck’s Point, the two commanding the entrance to the 
lower Highlands. It was here that Sir Henry Clinton com- 
manded in person, and it was here that Mad Anthony Wayne 
led the desperate charge which recaptured the fort and its gar- 
rison, and marked an era in the war along the Hudson. 
Light-house and fog-bell now mark the spot where the fortress 
of Stony Point once stood, but the line of the old-time works 
can still be distinctly traced. 

“The American flag waves here, General!” Wayne's dis- 
patch to Washington. 

Above Stony Point the hills grow higher, and the river 
narrower and more tortuous. Donderberg Mountain rises ab- 
ruptly from the water, like a giant from his bath. Here, in 
summer time, the tempest, the storm, and the lightnings brood 
and mutter. It seems like Olympus, and the cloud-draped 
throne of Jove himself can almost be distinguished, by throw- 
ing forward the mind’s eye prominently. 

A startling incident or illusion chanced just after passing 
Iona Island. An express train came thundering along the 
banks of the river like a mad fiend of fire, and presently darted 
into a hole in the mountain and disappeared from sight like a 
creature of the imagination. Travellers remember this hole 
in “ Anthony’s Nose.” 

And now we are opposite Peekskill, famed for its beautiful 
brook, its thriving farmers, and its pretty maids. There was 
evidently husbandry in Peekskill, for the lights were nearly 
all out, and she slumbered there in serene virtue, in that flood 
of moonlight. 

“ It was here, during the Revolution,” said Captain Finecut, 
interrupting my meditations, “ that General Putnam had his 
headquarters, and it was from here that he wrote that famous 


48 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


4 



Passing Anthony’s Nose at night. A train on the Hudson 
River Railroad plunging through the tunnel. 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


49 

laconic letter to Sir Henry Clinton. Clinton claimed a spy 
who had been captured, as a British officer, and in reply he re- 
ceived this letter : 


Headquarters, 7th August, 1777. 

Sib — Edmund Palmer, an officer, in the enemy’s service, was taken as a 
spy lurking within our lines. He has been tried as a spy, condemned as a 
spy, and shall be executed as a spy ; and the flag is ordered to depart imme- 
diately. 

P. S. — He has been accordingly executed. 

Israel Putnam. 

“ I had the pleasure of seeing the original letter — that is, a 
copy of it made by Putnam himself,” he added. 

“ It was a letter worthy of the man who wrote it.” 

“ You are right. The oak tree on which Palmer was hung is 
still standing.” 

“ And these hills — have they each a name ? ” I asked. 

“ Yes, but they ought to be ticketed at night in order to make 
them out. Yonder stood Fort Montgomery, and on the oppo- 
site side stood Fort Clinton. They were constructed during 
the revolutionary war. In fact, nearly every mountain and hill 
along the Hudson was honored with a fort of greater or less 
importance. These two forts were the scene of one of the most 
desperate contests in the whole war, and, had there been more 
men on our side, it might have changed the whole complexion 
of the war.” 

“ Another military if.” 

“Yes, but in this case it was really too bad that one existed. 
Yonder you see Sugar Loaf Mountain. At the foot of this 
strange-looking mountain Arnold had his headquarters at the 
time of his treason, and from hence he embarked on the morn- 
ing when his crime was discovered. 

Heigho ! the ghost of the past seemed hovering over us. 


50 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGHE. 


Tired nature got the best of us at length, notwithstanding 
the lovely night and the enchantment which the moon was 
weaving into a web about us. The wind for an honr two past 
had been fitful, thin and uncertain, and consequently we had 
made but slow progress. It was past midnight when we turned 
in and left the deck to Bitters, who had come up to relieve 
Bubble, and he and Stump were responsible, under the orders 
of the sailing-master. 

Of course we passed many points of interest while thus court- 
in g tired N ature’s sweet restorer. W e did not know that a fresh 
breeze took the Porgie in its arms and sped her along at a gal- 
lant rate ; neither did we know when we passed Buttermilk 
Falls, or Cozzens’ Dock ; but when the sails went down by the 
run, some time after we had gone down by the companion-way 
ladder, and the anchor-chain went rattling through the “ eye,” 
we were awakened and informed that we were opposite the dock 
at West Point But we slept on. The mobn went down behind 
the hills, and the lull of slumber was brooding o’er the world. 

It was quite late the next morning before Julius Baster dis- 
turbed our dreams, and then healed the wound by announcing 
an eye opener, and after that a breakfast of fresh bass, that he 
had bought of a fisherman, who, like the early bird, was out 
with his little worms in quest of bites. 

At eleven o’clock we stepped ashore, ready to “do” West 
Point from toe to spine. Up to this time nothing had been 
seen or heard of Byron Bleat, and many jokes were indulged 
in at his expense while we were at breakfast. 

Taking the omnibus, we rode up the hill, past the Riding- 
school, the Hospital and Academy buildings, over the parade- 
ground, where a class of cadets were being exercised in cavalry 
drill, and on to the West Point Hotel. Here we expected to 
find the first mate, but were disappointed ; and so, dismissing 
our driver, we concluded to go on foot, under the guidance of 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


51 



Flirtation Walk. “As Bitters had predicted, there we 
found Bleat, engaged in earnest conversation with a 

YOUNG LADY, AND SEEMINGLY OBLIVIOUS TO EVERYTHING ELSE, 
EVEN HER MOTHER.” 

Captain Finecut, in visiting places of interest and curiosity. 

“I’ll tell you what,” said Bitters; “let us go down through 
Flirtation Walk, and if we do not find him there we may safe- 
ly conclude that he has been choked to death by a pair of fe- 
male arms, or that he has been reciting one of his poems to the 
natives, and they have brained him.” 


52 


THE TKEP OF THE PORGUE. 


We humored Bitters, and went directly to the Walk. Sure 
enough, there we found him, in company with a young lady 
and and her mother. So engaged was he with her, and she 
with him (and the mother was evidently deaf), that he did not 
notice us until we were close upon him. Then he leaped to 
his feet, hurriedly kissed the young lady’s hand and excused 
himself, after which he rushed up to where we had halted, 
shook all of us cordially by the hand except Bitters, and ap- 
peared to be really glad to see us. 

“ What’s the matter, Bitters ? Why do you refuse your 
hand ?” he asked, after giving hurried particulars of his arrival 
by rail. 

“Well, I don’t think it best to encourage your style of 
lunacy,” said he. 

“ Oh, I might have expected that of you. But come, let us 
return ! You see,” he continued, as we started to return from 
this lovely romantic Walk, “ I arrived here last night ; stopped 
at the hotel ; heard that the Porgie was in this morning ; star- 
ted through Flirtation Walk to reach the wharf ; met that beau- 
tiful girl and her ma; knew her — danced with her several 
times last winter — and, — well, you know how it is ; she is very 
beautiful, as you saw, and I came near forgetting you.” 

All hands excused him but Bitters. “ I wish to know one 
thing,” said he, “ and that is, if there is any intermediate stage 
between these amours on the part of our first mate and a con- 
firmed lunatic ?” 

“ I’m sure I don’t blame him,” said Bubble. 

“No; I suppose not. Well, I shall have to nurse my own 
opinion to keep it warm. There is my hand, Bleat, and wel- 
come. Go on in your mad career,” he added, shaking hands. 

“ What mad career ?” asked Bleat. 

“ Why, this falling in love with some pretty girl at every 
place we stop at. I am really sorry for you, Byron. I do not 


THE TEEP OF THE POKGIE. 


53 


borrow any trouble on account of the young ladies, for, of 
course, they only encourage you for practice ; but the effect it 
may have on you is something I would guard against, being 
your friend.” 

“You are very kind, Bit.,” replied Bleat, laughing. 

“ Gentlemen, let us begin here, as the first point of interest — 
the Dade Monument,” said Captain Finecut, halting before the 
monument erected to the memory of the brave men who were 
killed in the Florida war, and whose dust has long since passed 
into the flowers of that beautiful land. “ They fought until 
only three of their number remained, and yet they refused to 
surrender,” he added. 

“ It was an act worthy of Leonidas,” said Bleat. 

“ In-Dade it was,” said Bubble. 

Bitters proposed to strangle the punster, but cooler judgment 
prevailed. 

After contemplating this sad marble memory for a few mo- 
ments, we passed on by the path which leads to the plateau or 
parade-ground above. This led us to a flight of stairs which 
conducts the tourist into the peaceful precincts of Fort Clinton. 
This is not the fort of revolutionary days, but an improved one 
upon the same site. 

“ Gentlemen, this is the Kosciusko Monument, erected by a 
grateful republic in honor of one of the noblest men who ever 
drew a sword in the name of freedom.” 

We uncovered, and walked around it. 

“ 1 And Freedom shrieked as Kosciusko fell,’ ” quoted Bleat. 

“ Did he fall here ?” asked John Stump, repeating a very 
stale joke, but never suspecting it was anything of the kind. 

“ No ; but here is where Freedom stood when she shrieked,’’ 
said Bubble, laughing all over himself. 

“ Gentlemen, levity is unbecoming Americans at such a shrine 
as this,” said Finecut, earnestly. 


54 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 



On the Parade-Ground. Relics of the Revolution. Remains 

OF THE GREAT CHAIN THAT WAS STRETCHED ACROSS THE RIVER. 

by General Putnam in 1777. West Point Hotel in the 

DISTANCE. 

“ That is so,” put in Bitters ; “ and that we may be made 
sufficiently melancholy, I propose that Bubble attempt some- 
thing funny.” 

A collective frown extinguished Bitters. 

From the monument we walked through other parts of the 
fort, took a look at the various patterns of cannon (some 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


55 


bursted, others condemmed for fear they would burst), at the 
torpedoes, mortars, and other splinterings from the forge of 
war. 

Then we left the fort, and walked out upon the parade- 
ground. Near the West Point Hotel is a park of cannon cap- 
tured during the Mexican War. There are over a hundred of 
them, all sizes, mostly of English make, and, like everything 
turned out from the Government arsenals of that trading nation, 
they are superb specimens of workmanship. If the work with 
them had been as good as the work upon them, it is doubtful 
if they would now be parked as trophies at West Point. 

“And what is this 2” asked Bubble, pointing to a large circle 
composed of huge links of a chain made of 2£-inch square iron. 

“ This is the remains of that celebrated chain that Putnam 
and his compatriots stretched across the river, directly opposite 
to where we now stand, in. 1777. It was intended to prevent 
the British from sailieg up the river to molest our shipping 
and baby forts, and also to prevent a junction of the respective 
forces of Sir Henry Clinton, from New York, with those of 
Burgoyne, who were operating in the northern part of the 
State. 

“Ah ! but the Gates of Saratoga prevented that junction,” 
said Bubble. 

“ That is so ; but, nevertheless, it showed the proper military 
spirit on the part of those who commanded .on the Hudson.” 

“ So we may safely say that this was a guard-chain ,” hinted 
Bubble, looking cautiously at Bitters. 

“ Yes ; a guard-chain to the watch on the Hudson.” 

I fear I perpetrated the above, but no notice was taken of 
it, save by Bubble, who always sympathized with anything of 
the kind. 

“ Glorious links in the destiny of a nation ! ’’ said Bleat, fond- 
ling them affectionately. 


56 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 



On the Parade-Ground, looking North. The Mortar Bat- 
tery, WHERE TnE YOUNG AMERICAN IDEA IS TAUGHT TO SHOOT. 


“ Let us move on ! These fellows are becoming temporarily 
insane,” said Bitters, starting away. 

“ Below is the seige battery, where the cadets practice,” said 
Finecut, pointing to it. 

“ What do they do there ?” asked Stump. 

“ Do ?” interposed Bitters ; “ they teach the young idea how 
to shoot? 

At this Bubble laughed as though he would wag his head 
off and fracture his windpipe. 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


57 


“ Do you see that, Bitters ?” said Bleat (remember to pro- 
nounce this Ble-at ; the young man is very particular). “Bubble 
laughs at your jokes, and you ridicule him when he attempts 
one.” 

“ Oh, Bub. will laugh at anything, almost. I really believe 
that he would laugh at a funeral,” replied Bitters. 

“Why so ?” 

“ Because he laughs at his own nonsense.” 

By this time we had moved a few rods in a westerly direc- 
tion. The view from here is lovely beyond comparison. The 
pretty village of Cold Spring, just opposite, while beyond, the 
town of Newburg appeared to be on the opposite side of the 
river from what it actually was, owing to another sudden bend, 
as the tide sweeps around old Butter Hill, or Storm King, 
and makes up toward Cornwall, now hidden from view. Hill 
rises above hill, mountain above hill, and all above the water, 
whose crystal depths treasure their shadows and receive their 
tributes. 

“Here we are, gentlemen, standing before the monument 
erected to the memory of Colonel E. D. Wood, of the corps of 
engineers, who fell while leading a charge at the sortie of Fort 
Erie, Canada, on the 17th of September, 1814. He was a gal- 
lant soldier, beloved by all. This monument was erected by 
his friend and comrade, Gen. Jacob Brown. He was a pupil 
of this institution, and died in honor of his country.” 

“ And yet how few ever heard of him, or would know what 
his merits were, did they not read them in this epitaph !” 

“ But what did Columbia say to him ?” asked Bubble, begin- 
ning to grin. 

“ What did she say ?” 

“‘You acted as a noble soldier Wood,’” replied Bubble. 

“ This is really too bad, gentlemen ! It is not only disre- 
spectful to the dead, but an infliction upon the living.” 


58 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 



On the Parade-Ground, looking North-West. The Statue 
op General Sedgwick. 

But we paid no attention to their little differences, and kept 
on our walk until we came to the statue of Gen. John Sedg- 
wick, who commanded the Sixth Army Corps during our late 
unpleasantness, and fell gloriously at Spottsylvania Court- 
house. 

“ Now, suppose we take a walk,” said Captain Finecut. 

“ A walk ! Where to ? 

“ Up yonder hill, to the ruins of old Fort Putnam. To visit 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


59 


West Point without going to Fort Putnam would be the height 
of folly.” 

“ True ; but is not that folly on the height ?” asked Bubble* 

“ There will be folly on the height if you ever reach it,” put 
in Bitters. 

« Well, let’s go.” 

This being agreed to, we started along the road that leads 
past some of the officers’ quarters and overlooks the village in 
the vale below, and the cemetery on a slight elevation beyond, 
where Scott and other heroes are sleeping in the memory of 
their countrymen ; and on we passed until, turning to the left, 
we entered the old military road that leads up the hill, and, 
winding around Mount Independence, brings one directly to 
Fort Putnam. 

This old road is still in good condition, even that part of it 
built by Putnam and the hardy sons of Massachusetts in 1777. 
There can be no doubt but this fort was looked upon as an im- 
portant point, and everything that pertained to it was built in 
the most thorough manner. 

Up the road we plodded, and, after getting up in the world 
about a thousand feet, we entered the ruins of one of the no- 
blest structures that time has left us of the days of the Revo- 
lution. 

It is indeed a grand old relic, and must have taken much 
labor and material to construct it. It is built on a solid rock, 
of stones, bricks, and mortar, rising on the western side nearly 
one hundred feet from the valley below. On the opposite side 
the walls are still thirty or forty feet high, built of the same 
material, and four large casemates built of brick, the arches of 
which still remain nearly as good as they were in the days that 
tried men’s souls. The bricks are perfect, and so is the mason- 
ry of the immense arches, in each of which there is a port-hole 
for sharpshooters. 


60 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


It is a stronghold, even to this day. But how little we ap- 
preciate the toil and the trouble consequent upon the building 
of this grand old work ! History informs us that, in the 
absence of any appropriation by Congress, the officers often put 
their last shilling into the work, rather than hava it stop for 
lack of funds, and it was built almost entirely by voluntary 
contributions from the patriots in the immediate neighborhood. 

“And here Washington, Putnam, Wayne, Clinton, Kosciusko 
and Arnold have stood,” said Bleat. 

Well, all that has passed away, and to-day we, the sons of 
those sires, stand upon the ruins of their works, and go back 
in thought over those struggles and those hard-earned victories. 
On this spot labored and fought “ Old Put ” and his fellow 
patriots. Here commanded Benedict Arnold; these stones 
have felt the impress of his fiery tread, these hills echoed the 
scorn of his seducton and apostacy. Here the brave Pole, 
Kosciusko, fought for this countiy, and dreamed of the hour 
when his own should be free ; and here centre a thousand his- 
torical associations and memories. 

The view from the fort is the finest on the river. For fifty 
miles around the eye takes in village and hamlet, hill and dale, 
farm and stream ; and it seems to be utterly a work of the 
imagination to believe that these peaceful scenes ever echoed 
to the dread clangor of war, or that these green fields were 
ever trodden by hostile armies. But it will not do to indulge 
in the pleasures of imagination or reverie, for there is enough 
of the real to occupy our minds, and the record of it will fill 
all of the space we have to spare. 

We each of us took a piece of the stone composing Fort Put- 
nam, for relics, and retraced our steps through the magnificent 
forest road that led us back again to the Academy and its 
immediate surroundings. By this time the boys were pretty 
well blown, and so we went to the hotel. Here Bubble, who 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


61 


was a proficient in the deaf-and-dumb or sign language, ordered 
a bottle of wine without saying a word; and without saying 
a word we drank it, and went away leaving the impression that 
we were a party of deaf, dumb, and thirsty mutes. 

From here we crossed the parade-ground, and went over to 
the Academy. 

“What little place is that, just across the river?” asked 
Stump, pointing opposite. 

“ That is Garrison’s Landing,” said Finecut. 

“ It’s a little place, but it’s a great place for fish'' said Bub. 
ble, carelessly. 

“ What do you mean by that, Bub. ?” asked Bitters. 

“ Why, Hamilton Fish resides there. See ? Great place for 
Fish — joke, eh ? 

“Joke! Heaven save the mark! What inflictions will 
come upon us next ? ” 

We all gave up the conundrum, and entered the Library, 
This is really a splendid building, and contains some very fine 
historical portraits, together with a valuable library open to the 
public. The librarian is a courteous gentleman, and spares no 
pains to show and entertain the visitors who go to inspect the 
place. And it is worthy of a visit, and a long one, too, for the 
most valuable scraps of American history are here enshrined 
and protected. 

From the Library we went over to the Museum. Here we 
encountered a company of cadets, in their tasty uniforms, out 
for a drill. He we met several of the brass-mounted profes- 
sors, gray in service and honored by the learned in every land. 
This is really where the young idea is learned to shoot, and ride, 
and fence. 

The Museum is not what it ought to be, or what it would be 
if members of Congress served the country more than they do 
the — the members of Congress. Nevertheless, it is worthy of 


62 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


a visit, and an hour or two may be spent here among the relics 
of the past. General Scott and the early pupils of the institu- 
tion appear to have done the most towards making it what it is 
even, solely by personal contributions. 

The tattered, ball-riddled battle-flags borne on the gallantly 
contested and victorious fields of Mexico, and those borne by 
the regular army during the late war, are suspended here, with 
the names of the fields inscribed upon them. They are sorry 
sights ; not enough of them altogether to dry even the tears 
which memory awakens in the eyes of the widows and orphans 
of both wars. Poor, tattered remnants of man’s weakness and 
ambition ! 

There are also sections of captured flag-staffs, brass-bound 
and held as relics ; and there are specimens of shells and pro- 
jectiles for small arms. There are a few specimens of old and 
modern arms, but nothing compared with what there should be. 
No one will question but what there ought to be a specimen of 
every arm that has ever been used in modern warfare, together 
with as many ancient ones as could be collected. But the War 
Department evidently thinks differently, or is convinced that 
the collectors of private museums pay more liberally than do 
ungrateful republics for such articles. 

One or two “ original scalps,” and the war-dress of an Indian 
chief, are probably considered, by the powers that be, in the 
light of luxuries, and as such they are conspicuously displayed. 
But, after all, there is much pleasure and profit to be extracted 
from this “virtuous-poor” museum, and, while wishing for 
more, one can learn much from what there is, and imagine that 
some day there will be more, and a more enthusiastic Secretary 
of War. 

But we had spent quite time enough in West Point, and con- 
cluded to go on board our yacht again for further progress and 
instruction. 


THE TRIP OF THE POEGIE. 


63 


This resolution was at once acted upon, and we walked down 
to the wharf, past the hospital, the stables — where there are 
some very fine horses, and the riding-school, where there is often 
some very fine horsemanship displayed. 

Good by, West Point ! The white wings of the Porgie are 
again spread to the breeze, and away we go, past Cold Spring, 
up and around old Butter Mountain to Cornwall, one of the 
finest and most romantic places on the Hudson. Here at least 
five thousand persons, mostly Hew Yorkers, who summer in 
this delightful and select place, and some very fine summer 
residences, are to be met with. 

A person gets but a poor idea of the beauty and extent of the 
place as seen from the landing. Beside a beautiful mountain 
stream a fine road leads up the hill to the town, five hundred 
feet above the level of the river. 

But we were now afloat and must continue our journey. We 
were resolved to spend the Fourth of July at some old-fash- 
ioned place, where patriotism could be partaken of in all its 
spread-eagleisms and pristine purity. 



64 


THE TBIP OF THE PORGIE. 


1 


TACK FOURTH. 

Once out upon the river expansion, here called Newburgh 
Bay, we had more sailing-room and a better wind even than w'e 
had enjoyed up from West Point. In fact, there was almost 
too much of it, for the Porgie swept along with her gunwale 
under water most of the time, and was making good ten knots 
an hour through the mountain-shadowed water of the ever-glo- 
rious Hudson — sailing through the sublime onward to the pic- 
turesque. 

We were determined to make a good run now and give our 
beautiful yacht the benefit of the breeze. As we approach 
the beautiful city of Newburgh, rising in natural terraces from 
the river, the first object that meets the patriotic lover’s eye is 
the old Washington Headquarters, a time-honored relic whose 
roof slopes almost to the ground, and by whose side a flag- 
mounted staff marks and guards the place. It was here that 
Washington met the officers of the army, who, after the war 
became restless and discontented with the way events were shap- 
ing, and who wished to make the government a military one, 
with Washington at its head. It was here he met them, and, 
adjusting his glasses that he might read their resolutions, he 
said, “ you see, gentlemen, that I have not only grown gray, 
but blind in your service.” And it was this bit of pathos that 
broke the spirit of insubordination and made our republic. 

Glorious relic ! Happy city that possesses it ! Newburgh is 
one of the finest places on the Hudson, and with its railroad 
and steamboat connections, there is a future for it that any 
place might envy. We swept past it with feelings of regret 
that we could not stop and pass a few hours within its bustling 
precints. 

Opposite, and connected by a ferry, is Fishkill Landing, 


TIIE TRIP OFTHE PORGIE. 65 



In Newburgh Bat. The “ Porgie ” in a Blow with a t,t, 

THE WIND SHE WANTS. 


66 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


where passengers on the Hudson River Railroad are landed. 
It is simply a stopping-place — indeed, a landing. 

And onward we swept, like some frightened sea-gull, all 
hands remained on deck, and, indulging in our varied styles of 
conversation, until at length our first mate, Byron Bleat, fell 
into a rhapsody of quoting and composing heroic verse fitting 
for the occasion. Even Bitters did not attempt to molest him 
in this, for the wind blew so freshly that it was only now and 
then that he could be heard ; in fact, he was doing but little 
better than making a pantomimic show of himself. At length 
he stopped near where we stood, and pointing to a little hamlet 
on our right (without any intention of doing so, probably), he 
quoted : 

“ And this is Rome — ” 

“ Ho, sir ; you are mistaken. That is Carthage ,” remarked 
Captain Finecut, earnestly. 

Some smiling followed this, and it became known that the 
little hamlet, indeed, bore that name ; and while the ripple was 
up, Julius Baster also came up with the well-know silver tray 
and its load of tiny cut glasses filled with the Club’s weakness. 
The reader will have found out by this time that the Sardine 
Club had at least one weakness. Larger clubs have larger ones. 

As we finished our indulgence, we tacked and swept past 
“ The Devil’s Dancing Chamber,” the name given by Henry 
Hudson to a cedar-covered rock that projects into the river, 
whereon, as he beat his slow way of discovery up this river of 
mountains, he saw an Indian pow-wow for the first time. Ho 
wonder the name suggested itself to him. 

The next place on the east side of the river is Hew Ham- 
burgh, a place made memorable by railroad slaughter. We 
passed it with a shudder. Even Bubble refused to be funny 
over it. 

A freshening breeze still forced us on, and with light hearts 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


67 


•we plunged through the ripples and the shadows which the grand 
old mountains threw over the water. As we passed Hampton 
Point, on the same side — in the same block, in fact, as The 
Devil’s Dancing Chamber, we could but notice the beautiful 
crop of white cedars which cover the mountains with their 
cones of beautiful green. There is nothing left by the prun- 
ing-knife of science that compares with their graceful propor- 
tions. Just above this natural garden is Marlborough, a pretty, 
quiet mountain underling. 

Here we pass Barnegat on the east, and on the west the 
Shawangunk Mountains reach away in the distance towards the 
haunted Catskills. Where is there a scene more beautiful and 
grand ? Where does nature open so many and varied volumes 
of poetry ? 

“ And this is Milton,” said our Captain, as we approached 
that quiet little townlet. 

“ Mute, inglorious Milton ! ” whispered Bleat. 

“ Hot much,” suggested Bubble. “ It may be mute in some 
respects, but it is the loudest place in the country for raspber- 
ries and blackberries.” 

“ But that is not so wonderful as a place called Coram, on 
Long Island. They have blackberries there all the year 
around,” said she “ crew,” John Stump. 

“ What is that, Stump ? Are you in earnest ?” asked Bitters. 

“ To be sure I am. I have seen them in midwinter.” 

“ Raised in hot-houses ? ” 

“ No ; lowered into cold ones.” 

“ What are you driving at ? Don’t make us fear that we 
have another jokist on board. What do you mean.” 

“ Why, the negroes die there as they do everywhere, and at 
all seasons of the year ; and of course their funerals are what 
might be called black buryings. See \ ” 

A shout of laughter followed, for it was the first joke that 


68 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 



In the cabin of the “Porgie.” Turning in, Bleat admir- 
ing THE SHADOW OF HIS LAST CONQUEST. 


Stump had ever been known to perpetrate. As for Bitters, he 
appeared to be completely dumbfounded. 

“And this from our crew, plain John Stump ! Well, well! 
What misfortunes may not befal us now! We had become 
used to the inflictions of Bubble, and some of us even felt 
cheerful in spite of his jokes ; but to find another viper in our 
midst is too much. Baster ! what ho ! bring us something that 
will enable us to brace up against our sorrow.” 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


69 


“ Yes, sail. "What shall it be ?” asked the steward, appearing, 
like a black spectre, from below stairs. 

“ Anything that bas nepenthe in it.” 

“We arn’t got none of dat yer, sah ; but I have got some 
absinthe.” 

“ Well, give me, at least, a good dose of that.” 

“Yes, sah,” and he vanished. 

By the time we had all recovered from the effects of Stump’s 
little pleasantry, we were off Locust Grove, the residence of the 
late Professor Morse. In spite of the towering hills we were 
enjoying a spanking breeze and were making excellent time, 
the Porgie never showing a cleaner sweep than now ; and when 
we came up from supper we found ourselves approaching 
Poughkeepsie, the Queen City of the Hudson, the generous, 
throbbing heart of rich old Dutchess County. Probably no 
city in the world enjoys so may ways of spelling its name as 
this one does ; and for this, and other good and sufficient rea- 
sons, we drew nearer and went ashore 

It is certainly one of the brightest, liveliest places in America, 
and a denizen of New York scarcely feels other than at home 
amid its earnest bustle and its city-like appearance generally. 
If I only had the space, I would like to take the reader all over 
the city ; up to Yassar College (this is not a brewery, although 
the offshot of one), the water- works, military schools, fine resi- 
dences, beautifully shaded streets, grand old elms, memorials, 
in short, to all of the many places of interest which go to make 
Poughkeepsie the Queen City of the Hudson. 

We went ashore and rode up town — up, indeed, for the main 
business portion of the place lies several hundred feet above the 
river. We called on a few friends and had a good time gene- 
rally, for they are a hospitable people, and “ take strangers in ” 
in a way that makes them feel comfortable and entirely at home. 

Our first mate was not satisfied, however. He wanted to 


70 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


dawn upon Yassar College and wring the hearts of those lonely 
students, and when told that he would not be admitted, he 
asked to be taken to within a few rods of it, pretending that a 
visit to Poughkeepsie without going to the college was a failure 
and a hollow mockery. But we knew what he wanted. As 
yet he had captured no female heart in this city, and he felt as 
though it had been a waste of time. 

We enjoyed ourselves hugely for an hour or so, and had our 
spirits been as weak as our flesh was we should have yielded to 
the seductive invitations that greeted us on all sides to spend 
the “ Great and Glorious/’ there, ample preparations for which 
were being made on all sides. We finally yielded enough to be 
driven over to see the progress of the work on the great rail- 
road bridge that is to span the river at this place, and we nearly 
came to grief through the excessive kindness of our Pough- 
keepsie friends, because we acknowledged that it would be a 
greater triumph than the East River Bridge, building to unite 
New York and Brooklyn. 

But we were bound up to Athens, opposite of sleepy old 
Hudson, to participate in the celebration of the Fourth, and 
had to hurry away from this delightful city much sooner than 
we wished to. One of our objects in stopping at Poughkeepsie 
was to procure a supply of fire-works, that we might be ena- 
bled to do our share towards making the day noisy and smoky ; 
and having secured these, we again went on board our yacht 
and continued our journey up the river. 

Of course, being highly pleased with our flying visit, we all 
felt in excellent spirits, especially Bubble. As the white wings 
of the Porgie caught the piping wind and we sped on our way 
rejoicing, Tom appeared to have something of a burdensome 
nature on his mind ; and knowing that he was anxious to give 
vent, I sided up to where he stood by the wheel, and spoke 
encouragingly to him. 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


71 


u What is it, Tom ? ” 

A loud guffaw followed, and it really seemed as though the 
poor fellow would unjoint his spinal column with his laughing 
contorsions. 

“ What is the matter with Bubble ?” asked the captain. 

“ Be careful, Cap. He has probably conjured up a joke or a 
conundrum, or something of that kind,” said Bitters, who had 
approached with the others. “ Let him alone and he will get 
over it in time.” 

“ No, no,” said I, “ let us have it ; he has got it on his mind, 
and it may make him temporarily insane if he does not give it 
vent.” 

u And is it worse that he should become mad by retaining 
his fearful jokes than that he should drive the rest of us 
mad ? ” asked Bitters, with intensity of feeling. 

“ Oh, never mind. What have you on your mind, Bubble ?” 
I asked, encouragingly. 

“ Well — ha ! ha ! ha ! I have a conundrum,” he said, be- 
tween his spasms of laughter. 

“ I thought so, I thought so. Gentlemen, you refused to be 
warned by me ; now take the consequences,” said Bitters. 

“ What is it, Bubble ? Put it to us gently.” 

“Well — ha ! ha! ha! — why is Poughkeepsie like New 
Haven ? ” 

“ What ? ” we all asked, and he repeated it. 

“ Give it up,” we replied. 

“ I’ll tell you why Poughkeepsie is like New Haven,” said he, 
bracing up to the effort, “ Because dar Vas-sar College there.” 

For a moment we were stupefied ; such a conundrum had 
never been exploded before — nay, not in Israel, or anywhere 
else. Bitters shrugged his shoulders in a very Frenchy way, 
as much as to say, I told you how it would be, and one by one 
we shook hands with each other and turned away. Some even 


72 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


mopped their eyes in search of imaginary tears, but slowly and 
sadly we turned away and left him alone in his glory — left him 
to the ignominy of doing his own laughing. 

The breeze was driving us on at a rattling rate, and one after 
another we passed Hyde Parle, with its fine residences and 
magnificent drives, Esopus Island, Rhinebeck Landing, the city 
of Kingston, the Deserted Village ; Rokeby, the residence of 
W. B. Astor; Barry town — the place Andrew Jackson refused 
to grant a post-office to on account of his hatred for its name- 
sake ; then Cruger’s Island, then Tivoli (where we refreshed 
once more, by Baster's help, in honor of the event of having 
reached one hundred miles from New York) Saugerties, Mal- 
den, Clermont — the original manor of the Livingstons, and in 
whose honor the first steamboat was named, and where she 
halted on her first trip up the river ; Four County Island, the 
corner point made by Dutchess, Columbia, Greene and Ulster 
counties; Germantown, and also the “ Man in the Mountains,” 
as w r ell as “ Round Top,” the highest point of the Catskills, 
Livingston, Catskill ; and then we hove in sight of Hudson, a 
city that should be to Columbia County what Poughkeepsie is 
to Dutchess County — but it isn’t. 

Well, after a thirty-mile run that equalled steamboat time, 
here we were abreast of time-honored Hudson. The river is 
quite wide here, and the scenery somewhat monotonous, and 
the spirit of it appears to have fallen upon the people herea- 
bout. I had visited the place twenty years before, but now I 
saw the same ruts that were patronized then. Not a new mark 
made (unless some person had got tired and occasioned the 
digging of a grave), and the same sleepy, dreamy influence still 
hovering over the whole neighborhood. 

There is some little life about the docks and the depot, but 
as a general thing the advent of a stranger in town creates the 
only sensation of the day. Farmers come in from the sur- 


THE TRIP OE THE PORGIE. 


73 


rounding country with their produce for market and their 
pretty girls for shopping, and these advents and exits consti- 
tute almost the entire life of Hudson. A stranger there feels 
that he is really one, and misses that frankness and genuine 
hospitality that he finds in brisker and more wide-awake towns. 
It is the shire-to svn, the storehouse and tying shed for the rich 
farmers of Columbia County, and — and that is about all. 

But as Athens, on the opposite side of the river, and on the 
edge of another county (which it is Greene), was our object 
point, and here all the interest of our stop centered We re- 
mained only a short time in the Sleepy City — in fact, all those 
who took an interest in the celebration of the Nation’s Birth- 
day were sculling or drifting across the river to the classic pre- 
cints of Athens, where a great blow-out was to be had on the 
morr 

We anchored near “ Swallow Rock,” on which the steamboat 
Swallow was run to her ruin in the early days of steam-paddling 
on the Hudson, and prepared to take a hand in, early the next 
day. 

All necessary preparations were made during the evening, 
and our saluting gun was hoisted out and given a good charge 
for an early discharge, and afterwards we draped our rigging 
with the flags of all nations, reserving a place at the peak for 
the Stars and Stripes, which was to receive our early salute, 
just so soon as we could discern it “by the dawn’s early light.” 

We retired early, and so did Athens. We arose early, ahead 
of Athens ; at least our steward did, and we were startled from 
our dreams more or less pleasant by the thundering of our gun. 
Baster was giving it to the little brass dog, right lively, and it 
barked loudly, joining its echoes with those resounding from 
the hills, and as it proved to be the loudest mouth-piece that 
the Goddess of Liberty had in those parts, the Porgie was very 
soon the centre of attraction. All kinds and degrees of floats 


74 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGEE. 



Saluting Athens. The “Porgie” with her Fourth of 
July dress on. 




THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


75 


sailed or paddled around us, and the shore was lined with 
patriots, curious to know what craft it was whose gun was out- 
thundering the great guns of Athens. 

Caesar Baster was never so much in his glory as now. By 
common consent he was allowed to boss the job of saluting the 
starry flags with which our craft was gaily decked and which 
gleamed in the morning light in several places on shore. Those 
who gathered around to see the sights and hear the sounds 
centered all their admiration on the steward, and many of them 
believed that his dark complexion was wholly occasioned by 
the smoke of the burning powder, and to show how they sym- 
pathized with his noisy enthusiasm some of the crowd would 
fire a musket or set off a firecracker every time that Baster 
fired our cannon. Thus it will be seen that the day at Athens 
opened amid wild excitement and great promise. 

Athens is no slouch of a city. It is a cool place. The peo- 
ple never get excited, unless it is upon the Fourth of July, on 
account of there being so many ice-houses there. In fact, they 
don’t raise much of anything but ice there, and they raise that 
crop by machinery, just as other enterprising farmers do. They 
are a keen-scented people, and can tell by the temperature of 
the water in August, or by the .thickness of the hickory-nut 
shell, or the length of a cabbage stump, or the yell of a hungry 
crow, or the length of a lamb’s tail, or the squeal of a pig, by 
the crow of a cock or the lay of a speckled hen, just how thick 
the ice will freeze during the coming winter. 

But it happened on this particular occasion that the people of 
this goodly place were bent upon celebrating the Fourth as it 
had never been celebrated there before, and this is why we re- 
solved to be near, and, if possible, assist in everyway we could. 
There was to be a parade of the local military — the Athe- 
nian Boners, a new company which had never yet paraded in 
public ; and the authorities had arranged to have a dinner in 


78 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


the Grove, at a dollar a head, to which was to be added the 
reading of the Declaration of Independence, and an oration by 
Rufus Webster Clay Smith, a young lawyer who had just 
graduated and opened shop in Athens, where he vowed to 
make his mark and bring honor upon every iceman and woman 
in the place, or perish abjectly in the attempt. 

Long after the sun had risen and created a demand for 
spruce-beer and other smart drinks, did the young Athenians 
keep up the firing of crackers and pistols at reasonable inter- 
vals, or just often enough to keep the general patriotism awake; 
and at ten o’clock the sounds of a six-piece brass band told 
that the Boners were on the point of making a dash for fame. 
Leaving the yacht in charge of Baster, we went ashore to 
“ assist.” 

We were already in receipt of an invitation to take a part in 
and of that municipal dinner, and were, of course, expected to 
join in the procession and help earn it. That procession we 
found already in motion, headed by the Grand Marshal of the 
day, mounted on a horse that evidently had no ear for music. 
But both rider and horse held their heads well up, and each 
appeared to feel the great weight resting upon him. 

Then came the Athens fire department, headed by Morton 
Steamer No. 2. A young lady from Lime Street was seated on 
the smoke-stack, dressed as the Goddess of Liberty, and ac- 
tively engaged in worrying the resistance out of a cent’s worth 
of chewing-gum. Think of the effect — the Goddess of Liberty 
chewing spruce gum ! This company was followed by the 
Bare-footed Firemen of Athens ; and, as they stirred up the 
dust of Ferry Street, they made a fine display. 

Next came the band, and following it, in individual order, 
came the ferocious Boners. As yet they had not received a 
regular uniform, and consequently were dreseed very much as 
they marched, each according to his own ideas of military 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


77 


heroes. There were some sixty in the company, commanded 
by Captain Muzzle, a man who had seen some hard service in 
the Home Guards during the Rebellion. Some of his men had 
also shared these honors with him, and nOw some of them were 
dressed in bear-skin caps, some in Continental uniforms, while 
others wore belts and plug hats, or had adorned themselves in 
such Revolutionary relics as could be procured among the old 
families. As for the arms, they were somewhat various ; some 
carried rifles, some shot-guns, and one or two, who wished to 
appear more patriotic than the rest, carried double-barrelled 
guns. 

The trials of Captain Muzzle were somewhat dreadful to a 
man who wished to enjoy the applause of the gathered multi- 
tude and the smiles of the ladies, for he was obliged to halt his 
company every few rods, in order to get them into shape ; and 
while this was being done, the Marshal and band made matters 
awkward by marching right ahead, necessitating the sending 
of an aide-de-camp to stop them. 

Influential citizens followed the military, and the Sardine 
Club joined in behind them, and ahead of the ordinary mortals 
and the boys who brought up the rear. The orator of the day 
was somewhere in the crowd, but he seemed to be lost sight of 
for the time being. But that parade was a success. It raised 
a huge volume of dust, which each one partook his share of, 
and shuffled and showed off all over the town. So far it was 
a great day for Athens. 

Then the Boners had a hot sham fight, and some of the 
boys had a real one. But that sham fight ! Well, it showed 
what Athens might depend upon in case of an invasion or a 
dog-fight. It became somewhat mixed, it is true, but that 
showed earnestness of purpose ; and then some of them got 
bloody noses and poked stomachs, and not a few got kicked 
over backwards into the mud by firing old rusty muskets 


78 


THJfi TRIP OB' THE PORGIE. 



The Fourth of July parade of the “ Athenian Boners.” 
Military enthusiasm on the Hudson. 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


79 


which hadn’t indulged in anything of the kind for several 
years. Besides, the Captain had to command both divisions, 
which led to some confusion ; and when the Grand Marshal 
attempted to ride into the fray with a drawn sword to 
straighten things out a bit, he got charged on, and his neigh- 
ing steed discharged him off behind, and then scattered the 
crowd by driving through it towards home. The Sardine Club 
and its invited guest laughed off nearly every useful button 
on their clothing. It was the richest treat they had ever par- 
taken of. 

Well, in the course of two hours the show was over, and the 
line of march was again taken up for the Grove, where the 
feast of reason and flow of soul was to take place. This was 
really the event of the day ; that is, to those who had come in 
from the country round about and had paid their dollar for a 
ticket to the dinner. The procession and interested outsiders 
were not long in filling every waiting seat ; and probably on 
account of their good appearance (for we had dressed ourselves 
in our store clothes), the Sardine Club was honored by being 
placed at the private table with the town dignitaries, on the 
elevated platform. 

The view from here was something to be remembered. The 
assemblage was somewhat heterogeneous, so to put it, and there 
were lots of studies for the student of human nature. Old 
men with their fussy wives and wonder- waken children, who 
never felt so patriotic in the world as they did now, with a rare 
dinner before them ; perts of both sexes, looking with con- 
temptuous smiles upon those more rustic than themselves; 
country youths — spruce young bucks who had come without 
girls, but who had eyes for those belonging to others ; indig- 
nant half -grown misses, to whose charge a younger brother or 
sister had been assigned ; substantial old f armers, with their 
wives and pretty daughters ; men and women about town, all 


80 the trip of the porgie. 

dressed^ in their best, all patriotic, all hungry, everybody 
noisy; — such is a hurried sketch of the crowd before us on 
that occasion. 

The Marshal rapped vigorously with a knife handle, and 
commanded silence, and, after repeating it and looking ugly at 
them for a moment, his orders were so nearly obeyed that a 
pistol-shot might have been heard. Then he introduced the 
chaplain. This quieted everybody but those who apparently 
didn’t care about hearing grace said over food that they had 
not received. But this functionary had the good taste not to 
enter into particulars, and closing short, the Marshal again 
sprang to his feet, and essayed to speak a patriotic speeeh that 
he had evidently spent much time over. 

But the crowd was in no humor for it then, and in the con- 
fusion which followed he forgot his part, and made the amende 
honorable by asking all hands to “take hold,” and make it 
lively for their dollar’s worth. 

That was the way to talk ; that was the eloquence they 
panted for, and they did “take hold” as though they meant 
to hold on. At all events, they held on for an hour, and until 
there was nothing else to hold on to but the dishes and table, 
and then they were ready for the speeches. The band strug- 
gled a few moments with “Hail Columbia,” and then Mr. Hen- 
dricks, the reader of the Declaration of Independence, was in- 
troduced, and eloquented over that immortal document very 
acceptably, although several of the audience wanted to know 
what we were trying to kick up a row with England for, while 
others growled because it was the same thing as they had last 
year, and wondered why he didn’t say something new. 

After this the Marshal got up to introduce the orator of the 
day, and, thinking this a good chance to get in his own little 
speech, he again essayed it ; but the excitement of the hour 
was too much for him, and again he forgot it, and while 


THE TKIP OF THE PORGIE. 


81 


vaguely floundering about among a lot of words, the crowd 
began to call for Smith, and the Marshal subsided into a square 
introduction of that gentleman. 

Rufus Webster Clay Smith strode to the front. He was a 
character, and, liking him, the Sardine Club started a round of 
applause which almost lifted the young orator out of his boots. 
He was rather flighty at best, and this gave him an additional 
lift. In appearance he would have passed for a son of George 
Francis Train, and a chip of the old block at that. As for his 
oratory, he slung it around with frantic delight, and could evi- 
dently discount poor Train and give him chalks. 

As there were a few marked passages in it, I will give them 
to the reader. His opening was rich, although somewhat 
flighty and shaky as to facts ; but his object and nature seemed 
to be to work solely for effect, evidently believing that elo. 
quence would cover up a multitude of other sins. He com- 
menced thus : 

“Fellow-citizens: Ninety-eight years ago to-day, at about 
this very hour, our illustrious forefathers put their fists to the 
immortal document you have just listened to. [Cheers by the 
Club.] My friends [glass of water and handkerchief], the 
spirit which indited that document hurled — hurled Richard 
III. from his throne, and waxed his minions on the heights of 
Bunker Hill. [Wild and untamed cheering from the crowd.] 
Yes, my friends, the spirit which framed that protest and de- 
claration has awakened forests from their primeval slumber, 
built cities and towns, built railroads, steamboats, telegraphs, 
invented printing-presses, baby-jumpers, mowing-machines, ice- 
harvesters, self-made men, women’s rights, and the rights of 
everybody. [Stamping.] It has made war upon the Indians, 
and successfully moved them along ; it has joined state to state, 
territory to territory, until we now point to a domain shadowed 
by our beloved Stars and Stripes, that stretches from the At- 
lantic to the Pacific. [Cheers.] To-day that banner is re- 
spected by all the world ; to-day that bird may justly be called 
the far-flying, high soaring, wide-stretching bird of all birds, 
cock of all walks, the bald-headed, double-gaffed American 


82 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 



Our glorious spread eagle. The wonderful Fourth of 
July oration of Rufus Webster Clay Smith, at Athens. 
The orator in one of his most striking passages. 


eagle. [Riotous applause.] Glorious old Thirteen ! Your 
children stand before the world to-day possessed of larger 
cities, more ingenuity and speculative spunk, longer railroads 
and higher mountains, larger rebellions and louder guns, bigger 
corn-fields and more whisky, less law and more lager, more in- 
dependence and less religion, faster yachts and more Mormons, 
higher water-falls and longer bridges, t more panics and less 
scaring, bigger balloons und higher git-ups, more onions and less 
cologne, more lawyers and fewer preachers, prettier women and 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


83 


more elopements, more patent medicines and less health, more 
money and greater defalcations, bigger debts and more cheek, 
larger newspapers and more of them, than any country on this 
or any other globe in the firmament ! ” [Here the audience 
became wild in their demonstrations of delight and broke seve- 
ral dishes.] 

Farther on he said : 

“ Fellow citizens : The genius of American liberty and pro- 
gress whispers in my ear, and tells me of greater things even 
yet ; when women shall vote, the ocean be crossed by balloons, 
our rivers bridged, the whole world ours, and ice be in demand 
at ten cents an ounce. By the time our Centennial celebra- 
tion comes around, the Star-spangled Banner shall wave trium 
phantly from the North Pole, and cast the shadow of its glo- 
ries even to the broad rolling Amazon. [Applause, of course.] 
But, my friends, my strength is not equal to the pressure of elo- 
quence that the memories of the day force upon me. Be not 
afraid of politicians or Caesarism. in spite of the darkey or 
the delights of office, in spite of panics or sensations, we shall 
all continue to love our great and glorious country. We will 
love all those who love it, whether they come from the frozen 
North or the flowery South, whether Yank or Hoosier ; fat or 
lean, rich or poor, they are our country’s sons, and we will love 
them and their beautiful daughters.” 

At this point he hesitated for a drink of water, and the 
leader of the band, thinking he was through with his oration, 
struck up the Star-spangled Banner, and refused to be choked 
off. This disconcerted Smith, and he sat down in the Marshal’s 
lap. As for the audience, they appeared to be divided as to 
the turn affairs had taken, some applauding, and others hissing, 
the whole being confusion worse confounded, and a confounded 
sight worse than that, even. But the Sardine Club were equal 
to the emergency ; they had been asked to assist, Ind here was 
a chance. Finecut, Bleat, Bitters, and Bubble composed a very 
fine quartette, if they had a mind to sing, and now they felt 
like it. They took up the Star-spangled Banner, and sung it 


84 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


as the Athenians never heard it sung before and this restored 
order and made everybody jubilant. They even repeated it, at 
the request of everybody. 

At the conclusion of the hymn, Smith evidently concluded 
that he had said enough, and refused to continue until next 
year. Then the Grand Marshal leaped to his feet, and resolved 
to put his little speech in ; but misfortune appeared to be after 
him. Scarcely had he begun it before some one outside 
raised an alarm of fire, and the crowd rushed pell-mell into the 
street, leaving him standing there, his duties over with, and 
very much like a burned piece of fireworks. Down Ferry and 
Happiness Streets they rushed, never hesitating until they 
reached the Astor House. Those barefooted firemen were now 
bent on showing what they could do. 

But there was no fire greater than the firing of a pistol or a 
toy cannon, after all. And so the people dispersed for lager 
and other attractions. A select company of ladies and gentle- 
men went on board the Porgie , and were entertained by the 
Club in right royal New York style. This gave at least two 
members of our party much delight — namely, our first mate, 
Byron Bleat, who had already gotten up a desperate flirtation 
with one of the young ladies, and Baster, the steward, who had 
a chance to show his science as an opener of green-sealed bot- 
tles, and entertaining the company to a regular breakdown, at 
which he was an artist. 

Time passed pleasantly until sunset, when the guests retired, 
and the saluting gun, under Baster’s nursing, was once more 
coughing its spleen against all tyrants in a grand salute, answer- 
ing those on shore. And thus the day closed ; and when the 
shadows of evening came, our fireworks drew the whole com- 
munity to the waters edge, and for an hour kept the Porgie in 
a blaze of glory. Bombs, rockets, candles, wheels, set pieces 
and mottoes were displayed in great profusion, and when the 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


85 


last piece exploded, and the glories of the day had faded from 
sight, the sails of the yacht were again hoisted, the anchor 
raised, and the Porgie started amid pleasant wishes to continue 
her journey to Albany. 

As we glided away, the crowd on shore gave us three lusty, 
rustic cheers, and listened to us for some time afterwards as we 
sang “ Marching through Georgia.” Athens was left behind, 
and we had enjoyed a genuine homespun Fourth of July, 'of 
which this is but a sketchy description. 




86 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


TACK FIFTH. 

Away we go, bound to meet our friends at Albany without 
further delay. 

On awakening the next morning, we found ourselves oppo- 
site Coxsackie, on the west side, and very naturally concluded, 
having run only eight miles during the night, that we weren’t 
making steamboat time, or much of any kind.’ But it w r asn’t 
the Porgie's fault if the wind went somewhere else. 

All things considered, we were feeling pretty well after our 
Fourth of July experiences, and after breakfast, when we were 
seated around, engaged in pulling smoke through rolls of to- 
bacco, we even began to feel jolly and to comment on what we 
had witnessed the day before. The Sardines were themselves 
again, especially Bubble. 

We had passed Stockport and Four Mile Point, besides seve- 
ral other places of lesser note, such as isolated farm-houses and 
scattered homesteads. But there being no wind, we began to 
think that we should have to fall back on our originality in 
order to kill time. 

As for Coxsackie, we had all the time to contemplate it that 
we cared for. It is probably the deadest old place on the 
river. Those who feel a kindly disposition towards the place 
keep away from it, and contend that it isn’t to blame for being 
such a one-mule town ; no place could hope to amount to any- 
thing with such a name. It was given by the enraged Indians, 
who were trotted out of their possessions without getting paid 
for them. They had a terrible revenge. 

"We sailed near enough to see the place, and I noticed that 
it was almost exactly what it was twenty years before — only so 
much older. The old Bacchus Hotel was in view, and two or 
three sleepy citizens were fishing from the dock. The tavern 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


87 


is (or used to be) the centre of attraction, and fishing is about 
the liveliest amusement they have there, save when some fellow 
gets money enough to get drunk and forget the quietude of the 
place. But, after all, it is said that there are worse places than 
Coxsackie ; but it is a question whether the Coxsackie News 
will admit that this is true. 

Opposite Coxsackie is Newton Hook, chiefly renowned for 
being on the opposite side of the river, and it feels big on that 
account. 

Stuyvesant, on the same side — once called Kinderhook 
Landing — is a passable place, especially if you are going up or 
or down the river. Two miles farther up is Shadack Island, 
renowned for its corn — a kind of corn that cannot be converted 
into whisky, viz., broom corn. Bubble called it the scrubbing- 
brush of the Hudson ; but you know Bubble will have his 
little joke. 

The scenery along the river, from Hudson up to Albany, 
would be but ordinary were it not backed by the magnificent 
Catskill Mountains. 

But we were drawing near Albany. The breeze freshened, 
and as the distant spires came in view we began to anticipate 
the reception in store for us, and to wish that the Porgie had 
all the wind she wanted. Captain Finecut had sent a telegram 
from Hudson to the President of the Stuffed Club, that we 
should, in all probability, arrive the next day. 

We passed Coeymans, the old Indian fishing-ground of Shad 
Island. The Indians don’t fish there now so much as they did. 
Nine Mile Tree, Castleton, Campbell’s Island, Cedar Hill Dock, 
Stuart’s Island, with its two hundred years old house, and now 
We were bearing bravely up towards Albany. 

Thus we have sauntered along from New York to the good 
old Dutchy of Albany, stopping here and there, making a few 
friends and leaving mixed opinions behind regarding us ; no- 


88 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 



Above Athens. Sweeping slowly along the beautiful 

RIVER TOWARDS ALBANY. 


ting or commenting on other places, trying to enjoy ourselves 
and give the reader a good opinion of our party. But now 
we are soon to leave the river and deal for a while exclusively 
with the capital of the Empire State. 

As we approached the dock a boat containing four or five 
persons shot out and came towards us. In all probability it 
contained our friends, and, as we were nearly in we let our jib 
go down, the speed of the yacht slackened, down went our 


THE TRIP OP THE PORGIE. 


89 


anchor, off went our saluting gun, and the Porgie , with her 
private signal and U. S. flag at the peak, swung around to the 
wind and lay still to her anchor. The boat from the shore ap- 
proached. 

“ What yacht ? ” asked one of the boat’s crew. 

“ The Porgie ,” replied Captain Finecut. 

“What crew?” 

“The Sardine Club, of New York.” 

“ Good enough,” was the response. 

“Who hails?” 

“ The Stuffed Club, of Albany.” 

“ Good enough again. Consider yourselves prisoners,” said 
the leader, a stout good-looking man, as he leaped nimbly 
aboard from the boat now close alongside. 

“ Captain Finecut, I presume,” said he, approaching our 
commander. 

“ Right ! and this — ” 

“ Jack Hastings, President of the Stuffed Club.” 

“ I am glad to meet you. Permit me to make you acquainted 
with Byron Bleat, William Bitters, Tom Bubble, Jack Stump ? 
the entire membership of the Sardine Club. This is our in- 
vited guest,” he continued, introducing me. 

“ Most happy ! And now, my friends, allow me to introduce 
you to three other representatives and officers of our club, 
Jakey Cuyler, ‘Doc’ McNoughton, and Jack Clow. We 
acknowledged the honor. 

“ Now, gentlemen,” continued Mr. Hastings, “ as soon as it 
suits your convenience to go on shore, we are yours truly, in- 
structed to present you to other members of our club, and 
guide you to our hospitalities.” 

Captain Finecut assured them that we would soon be ready, 
and just then, as if by magic, our steward, Julius Baster, came 
from below with a bottle of champagne in its cooler, and with- 


90 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 



At Albany. A committee from the Stuffed Club come on 

BOARD TO TAKE US ASHORE. ENJOYING A LITTLE GREEN SEAL, 
PREPARATORY. 



THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


91 


out a word lie proceeded to assist in its escape into about a 
dozen beautiful goblets. Then followed mutual healths five 
fathoms deep, together with individual toasts a trifle shallower, 
may be. 

We were very much pleased with the way things began to 
pan out, and were soon ready to disembark. 

Two carriages were in waiting for us at the dock, and, pro- 
ceeding to occupy them, we were whirled away towards the 
Delevan House, were we found a parlor set apart for our es- 
pecial use, together with apartments in that famous hotel for 
each individual member of the club. 

In this parlor, awaiting our coming, we found several mem- 
bers of the Stuffed Club, among whom were Abe Davis, some- 
times known as the “ Big Chief S. H. H. Parsons, Billy Steel, 
Charley Steel, John Patterson, J. W. Kobe, Billy Moak, pro- 
prietor of “ Cobweb Hall “ Cap ” Davis, known among his 
friends as “Piper Heidsick;” G. W. Yinton, the renowned 
recitationist, strong on the fit of his clothes ; Tom Stephens, 
Phil Parks, John Stewart (“ Old Clo’’”), E. S. Hear, John M. 
Clow, the hero of “ those fish-balls John W. Rankin, “Ele- 
phantine Shoes Billy Monks, the dispenser of tickets on the 
Central R. R. ; Gus Bowers, Max. Balton, Ed. Leonard, Edward 
Martin Parker, the sweet singer ; D. D. Doncaster, George E 
Latham, the gallus fire-laddie; the spouter, Patrick Henry 
Shaw ; the political heavy, Geo. Ganto ; J. H. Bunn, conductor 
on the R. and S. R .R. ; “ Tight ” Sheldon, and many more whose 
names I have forgotten. 

It was a jolly party — one of the jolliest I remember ever 
having seen, and the feast of reason and the flow of soul resem- 
bled a freshet very much. 

Everybody congratulated his neighbor to the extent of his 
ability, and for half an hour we were “buzzed” in a very enter- 
taining manner. 


92 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


At last tlie President of the Stuffed Club rapped with his 
cane as a signal for order, and then he proceeded to deliver the 
following : 

“ Gentlemen : We have become pretty well acquainted with 
our guests by this time, and yet, so far as appearances go, we 
are yet wrongly named — a misnomer, so to speak. We are an 
empty, not a stuffed club. I am informed that an opportunity 
is now presented whereby we can show our friends that we are 
emphatically what we seem. A dinner has been prepared by 
the proprietor of this hotel, and I now propose we move upon 
his works, and take our guests along with us. What say the 
party ? Shall we move ?” 

“ I move we move,” said somebody. 

“ Let’s move !” was the general shout. W e fell in. 

The result of that falling-in was a movement towards a pri- 
vate dining-room, where we found a magnificent repast in 
waiting for us. 

Such scenes are familiar to all our readers, and there is no 
reason why I should inflict the particulars upon them. But 
perhaps it may be well to mention that the dinner was a suc- 
cess in the most palpable term, and the speeches that followed 
were all that a. man could expect under the circumstances. 

After about an hour had been spent in putting away the 
provender of the Delevan House, and after all the internal 
cravings had been satisfied, the President struggled to his feet. 
A volley of champagne-cork explosions greeted his rising. It 
was a scene long to be remembered. He said : 

“ Gentlemeu, if the club consider itself sufficiently stuffed, it is 
but fair that we now proceed to the feast of reason and the flow 
of bowl, for which we have become somewhat noted. But, before 
proceeding with that flow, if there is any member present who, 
after a careful examination of his physical condition, and a 
mathematical survey of his carrying capacity, finds that he still 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


93 



The President of the Stuffed Club rises to make a few 
Remarks. 


lias room for freight, let him speak out now, or hereafter for- 
ever hold his peace.” 

There was at this time a moment’s communion. Some com- 
muned with themselves, and others talked matters over with 
their neighbors. At length Mr. Rankin worried himself to his 
tiny feet. 

“ Order, gentlemen !” said the president. “ Brother Rankin 
is bracing up for a few remarks.” 


94 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


“ Mr. President — wick ! I have had the honor of a — wick ! 
of a seat by the side of one of our guests during the evening, 
and — wick ! — I — think he is not full yet. His name it is Bub 
— Bubble, an’ — he’s a good enough — wick ! — Bubble.” 

“ Bubble ? Who is Bubble ?” 

Captain Finecut landed on his feet. 

“ Gentlemen, Mr. Bubble is a worthy and respected member 
of the Sardine Club ; in fact, while on a cruise he is our sailing 
master. If by any chance he has allowed his natural modesty 
to get the better of his appetite, I must beg of our friends to 
temporize with him. A little judicious urging will restore his 
confidence and induce him to fill any aching void that may now 
remain.” 

“ Bubble ! Bubble ! Bubble !” came from all sides. 

Bubble tried to retire within himself, but the attempt and 
not the deed rather got the best of him. Those of the Stuffed 
Club who sat near him sprang to his rescue. After some 
urging, Bubble was hoisted to his pedals. 

He began in a timorous way : 

“ Gentlemen of your club and of ours : I am not rated as a 
success at after-dinner speeches. I am but a plain man, a man 
of fore and aft, a man who knows his watch and his log. On 
shore I am but an ordinary mortal ; on board the yacht I am a 
sort of an Ixion — bound to the wheel, so to speak. But my 
worthy friend of the baby pedals is mistaken regarding my 
stowage capacity’s not being all taken up ; I am full — too full 
for utterance ; and, instead of making a speech, I will gladly 
approach you with a conundrum.” 

“ Oh ! oh !” came from all sides. 

Bitters leaped to his feet. 

“ Gentlemen, you will please excuse our sailing-master. He 
is not eloquent ; would to heaven he was ! for we should then 
be spared much that we now have to submit to. Allow him 


THE TRIP OP THE PORGIE. 95 

to go on and develop his weakness, and then you will know 
better than to call on him to say anything hereafter.” 

“ Let him go on !” “ Conundrum !” “ Conundrum !” came 
from every one, and Bubble straightened up. 

“ Gentlemen, I cannot make a speech, but, as I said before, I 
will slip my cable and sail into you with a conundrum. Now, 
then. Why is the Albany Mayor’s office like this company ?” 

A buzz of consultation ran around the table that lasted 
several minutes, during which time Bubble struck an attitude, 
and garnished the front part of his mug with a self-satisfied 
grin. 

“ Give it up ! give it up !” came at last. 

"Well, I will tell you why the office of the Mayor of Al- 
bany is like this company : became it is well filled.” 

Fortunately the company was in a happy mood, and so the 
conundrum was well received. In courtesy they were bound 
to laugh, but it was evident that several persons laughed be- 
cause others did. But it made a laugh, and that was enough ; 
and yet it taught our friends a lesson they did not forget, and 
that was the last time Bubble was called upon to say anything. 

Several speeches followed, all of which were of a complimen- 
tary character, and finally the President of the Stuffed Club 
arose and proposed : 

“A pleasant visit, long life, and much happiness to our 
guests — the Sardine Club !” 

Captain Finecut responded in a few well-chosen remarks. 
These remarks were serious ones — such as always came from 
the lips of our worthy captain ; but simply because they were 
serious our friends appeared determined to look upon them as 
funny — fun in disguise — and they applauded him to the echo 
on that account. 

Seeing how the tide was setting, he concluded as follows : 

“ Gentlemen, your goodness overpowers me, for you are good 


96 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


enough to look upon my remarks as humorous, and perhaps 
they are so in spite of myself. But we have an element of hu- 
mor in our midst, if you can only find it out. Charity on my 
part, and bashfulness on his, chides me from mentioning his 
name. If you can find it, you may be treated to something 
serious in lieu of the humor I have squandered upon you.” 

Those who knew Mr. Finecut saw that he was not a little 
nettled over the good-natured reception of his remarks ; for, 
being a scholar, and a sophomoretic one at that, he was proud 
of his eloquence, and although a jovial gentlemen in every re- 
lation of life, he could not bear to be thought a vehicle for 
anything short of classic eloquence when addressing a company. 

When he sat down there was a momentary hush, after which 
the party began to look in each other’s face as if for a solution 
of the problem: “Who is the serious man?” At last they 
pitched upon Bitters, and shouted him to his feet. Bubble and 
I were delighted. 

“ Gentlemen, there is certainly a mistake here. I am not 
eloquent, neither am I serious ; our worthy captain can vouch 
for that, and the Sardines will acknowledge, to a man, that, 
with the exception of Bubble, I am the most comical man in 
the party. I even laugh at my own jokes. Yet, outside of the 
club proper, but in our midst, as a guest of both clubs, there is 
one of the most solemn and matter-of-fact men that ever smoth- 
ered his eloquence under a buckwheat cake. I allude to the 
gentleman opposite, with the cinnamon-colored mustache ; a 
man who has done more in sowing “Wild Oats ” to crush out 
humor and mirth in the land than an army of undertakers 
could have done.” 

This was a good introduction, and the company applauded 
it as though it was exceedingly funny. A storm arose under 
and over that table, and, to prevent the further destruction of 
crockery, I struggled to my feet. 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


97 



Ah after-dinner speech, by a victim of Bitters, “We 

CAN ALL MAKE SPEECHES, PROVOKE US AT YOUR PERIL.” 



98 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


“ Gentlemen, Stuffed and Sardine : I feel that it is good to 
be abroad — I feel that it has a good effect upon my friend, who 
has so flatteringly introduced me, for we can all bear testimony 
that he has never been known to speak the truth before ; and 
I must compliment you, gentlemen, upon the influence you 
have exerted on him. For the good of society he should re- 
main under that influence. But, gentlemen, I fear I have risen 
inopportunely. This appears to be a jovial company, and a 
discussion of serious matters will not be well received. I am 
not humorous, as Captain Finecut is, as Bubble and Bitters are, 
and, of course, I cannot expect to win your applauding palms. 
We have accepted the invitation you were kind enough to ex- 
tend to us, solely in the interest of science, barring, of course, 
our friendship for you. In the first place, we considered that 
our club was not thoroughly organized until we knew the 
carrying capacity of each individual. That problem will soon 
be finally demonstrated. We also thought it incumbent on 
somebody to examine the shells to be found on the borders of 
the Hudson. The only specimens we have been able to find 
not laid down in conchological works, were those at West 
Point, used to shuck our enemies with. Then we wished to 
settle a few historical points. It has long been a question 
whether the original Dutch or their descendants inhabited the 
the shores of our noble river, and we have demonstrated the 
fact that they do. We also discovered that the Hudson River 
Rail Road Company have put a ring through Anthony’s Nose. 
We have had a very pleasant journey up, and behold our anti- 
cipations epitomized around this festive board. We have had 
our appetites and our patriotism whetted at every turn. We 
look with reverence upon shad-poles, and each member of the 
club can make a Fourth of July speech upon the slightest pro- 
vocation. Provoke us, at your peril ! 

“ Gentlemen, we appreciate your hospitality. We propose 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGHE. 


99 


to extend our researches in and around grand old Albany. 
What associations cling around the place ! Here the warriors 
of Tammany were wont to hold their pow-wows, pick * bones,’ 
and drink fire-water. These very walls have echoed to their 
war-whoops of victory, and in these parlors have hung the 
scalps of many an enemy. This much we know of Albany, 
my. friends, but we are willing to learn more. We know all 
we care to regarding those political Indians — those brass- 
mounted Lo’s of Manhattan. They are scattered now, and 
white men steal, smoke, drink, chin, swear and squirt tobacco* 
juice where erst their altars stood — where their council-fires of 
Partagas once burned. Peace to their ashes ! 

“ Gentlemen, the world moves ; it goes by steam, and still 
claims to be Democratic. We, of Gotham, claim to have a few 
points of interest and taxes almost identical with those pos- 
sessed by you, although, in some respects, you have the advan- 
tage of us. For instance, you have no ‘ Washington’s Head- 
quarters,’ while we have several ; but you have an unfinished 
State-house, and we still have an uncompleted Court-house that 
is likely to remain unfinished until it becomes old enough to 
tear down, because the ‘bones’ in it have all been picked* 
You have the politicians only one hundred days out of the 
three hundred and sixty-five. In this we envy you. 

“But, my friends, let us have peace ! Why do we still des- 
pise a man because he wears a ragged coat ? What has France 
to do with it ? Because we have not been able to hoist our 
beloved flag upon the North Pole, or cross the ocean in a bal- 
loon, is it any reason why taxes should be so high, or bonnets 
either? Again I ask, what has France to do with it? If we 
must lay down our arms, if the prestige of our little band of 
patriots must be eclipsed by a last year’s almanac, if we are to 
be beaten at our own game, is it not a pleasure to be beaten 
by a stuffed club f ” 


100 


THE TRIP OF THE POKGIE. 


Affirmative responses by the Sardines. 

"Again I ask, what has France to do with it ?” 

“ She furnishes the wine,” said Sheldon, whereat somebody 
laughed. 

“Well, my friends, I see no reason why I should afflict you 
further. The question that I have been driving at all through 
has just been answered, and there is really nothing more to 
say. I am free to acknowledge that I came up here to find out 
what France had to do with it, and now I am happy. Let us 
all continue on in the interests of science and civilization. Let 
our researches extend to the deepest cellars ; let us wipe away 
the cobwebs and dust of years, and pull corks like men en- 
gaged in testing the chemical action of certain juices under 
certain circumstances, and in the interest of producers of every 
clime. 

“ Finally, gentlemen, if you will return this visit — if you 
will take your lives in your hands and come to us in Gotham, 
we will do our best to instruct you in the ways of the metro- 
politan animal. We will show you the remnants of our King, 
the monuments to Tammany’s braves, in the shape of uncom- 
pleted public buildings, wooden pavements that are being re- 
placed by stone, a debt of one hundred and fifty millions, 
diamonds ‘ spouted ’ by the peck, courts and churches run by 
money, honesty ‘run’ by everybody; greater humbugs, frauds 
and speculations ; greater panics, more general looseness, more 
speckled-pig piety, together with a livelier git-up-and-git than 
can be found in any other city in the world. Come and see us !” 

“We will,” was the unanimous resolve, and a few more 
dishes were broken as I broke off. 

President Hastings ventured a perpendicular. 

“ Gentlemen, if it meets the approval of our friends, we will 
now escort them to our club-room, after which we will show 
them a few points. Carriages are waiting for us ; is it a go?” 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


101 


It was pronounced a “ go,” and we made one @f it. 

We found their club-room just what we might have expected 
—rich, refined, elegant. Here a good mixing of persons, com- 
pliments and opinions was indulged in, washed down with 
u Gold Seal,” and after continuing our entertainment in this 
way, we were again taken in the carriages, one Sardine in each, 
and driven about the city to see the sights. 

Of course, these sights and points of interest are well known, 
and need no description here. The day passed in a most agre- 
able way, and in- the evening we again assembled in the club- 
room, and were presented to quite a number of beautiful ladies 
who had met there to adorn the climax. 

Byron Bleat was in his element, of course. Before half an 
hour’s acquaintance with a certain beautiful girl, he informed 
me privately that he had never seen a lady that interested him 
so much before in his life. 

Singing and dancing were indulged in, and then a lunch at 
the Delevan House again, about midnight, brought the day’s 
entertainment to a close, and we all retired like bees heavily 
laden with honey, to our respective rooms to sleep, perchance 
to dream of the morrow. 

That morrow came with its supposable number of late break- 
fasts, and heads too large to fit the hats .worn the night before. 
This history not being written for those who do not know how 
it is themselves, a further entering into particulars will not be 
indulged in. Suffice it to say that, what with breakfast, bar- 
bers, morning papers, bracers and smokers, it was noon before, 
the world began to look natural again. 

About dinner-time our friends of the previous evening began 
to arrive and to make inquiries regarding our physical and 
mental conditions, and, finding them satisfactory, we sat down 
for a pleasant chat and a gradual burning of tobacco. 

In the afternoon a committee of the Stuffed Club accom- 


102 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


panied us to Troy, the rival of Albany, seven miles farther up 
the river, where it looks cheaper and thinner. Here we found 
many friends and a bright, cheerful, wide-awake, business city. 
It is the Trogans’ boast that there is nothing manufactured in 
the United States that is not manufactured there. 

We drove about the city, and visited nearly every point of 
interest therein, meeting many who gave us welcome and cigars. 
Later in the day we returned to Albany and to another dinner 
at the Delevan. 

When this had been “got along with,” the Stuffed President 
let us into a little secret regarding what was in store for us in 
the shape of an evening’s entertainment. The Stuffed Club had 
lately resolved itself into a dramatic company, and, obtaining a 
local burlesque, they had learned the parts, and, after a careful 
rehearsal, had arrived at a state of perfection that warranted 
them in representing the piece for our edification and enter- 
tainment. 

“ Don’t make any mistake, old party,” said the President, 
after he had given our captain an outline of what was in store > 
“ you will see something quite as high as you ever encountered 
before. We have a fine little theatre fitted up in Bleecker 
Hall, and at seven o’clock a carriage will call for you. But 
now I must leave you, to look after matters behind the scenes.” 

We were left in the hands of three or four members of the 
club, who were evidently not possessed of sufficient dramatic 
ability to be cast for our entertainment upon the mimic stage, 
and so were doing their parts in this way. We dressed our- 
selves carefully, and waited impatiently. 




THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


103 


TACK SIXTH. 

At seven o’clock carriages arrived aud embraced us in their 
upholstered laps. 

On arriving at Bleecker Hall, which had been transformed 
into a cosy and superb little theatre, we found it well filled 
with a fashionable audience, friends of the members of the 
club : and the orchestra, that up to the moment of our entrance 
had been playing some lively piece, at once started off with 
“ Job’s Lament.” 

But this changed again as we took the seats assigned us, and 
“ The Sardine Club Sonata ” followed, together with a delicate 
round of applause from the audience, who recognized the guests 
of the evening. 

Feeling myself partially an outsider, I took up one of the 
satin programmes which had been placed in each of our seats, 
and read it carefully. Judging as near as one is able to from 
a bill of fare, I at once concluded that the entertainment would 
be worth reporting, and so took out my note-book for that 
purpose. Here’s the programme : 



WEDNESDAY, JULY 8th, 1874. 


Complimentary to the Sardine Club, of New York, 

BY THE STUFFED CLUB, OF ALBANY. 

ADMITTANCE ONLY BY CARD OF INVITATION. 


104 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


On this occasion will be presented for the first time, on this or anyjother stage, 
a new local, semi-historical, semi-barbarical, semi political, some social extravaganza, 
in one. act, entitled 



OR 


TAKEN IN AND DONE FOR. 


CHARACTERS BY THE MEMBERS OF THE STUFFED CLUB AND THEIR 

LADY FRIENDS. 


WHITE MEN. 

Henry Hudson, the great and’game original, the jolly cross-cut sailor-boy, seek- 
ing a northwest passage to China, bound to go the whole hog on the 
“ Half Moon.” Mr. Jack Hastings. 

Robert Jewett, first mate of the “ Half Moon,” and second to no one, though 

evidently anxious to get married J. M. Clow. 

Sol Size, an ordinary sailor, but, by courtesy, while on shore, allowed to call 

himself second mate, a man of more sizing than hard finish J. M. Rankin. 

Abe Light, a steward, and continually getting himself and others in a stew, 

Charley Steele. 


LO, THE POOR INDIANS ! 

Rig Hen, a Mohican chief, not the least and not the last of the Mohicans, but 
a distant relation to Cooper’s “ Last,” a roaring, ranting, calculating 
scalp-lifter, with several marriageable daughters on his hands — a full 
hand in fact Mr. Abe Davis. 

Little Chicken, a brave, reputed to be game, and anxious to relieve his chief 

of at least one of his cares . . . . , Ed. Parker. 

Great Sucker and Bad Egg, ordinary braves, great lovers of fire-water, priding 
themselves on being genteel scalp-lifters and useful members of society, 

Messrs. Sheldon and Strain. 

These are associated with several other Indians, who refused to have their names 

on the bill because they were not assigned the leading parts : 

Minniniva, a daughter of Big Hen, a trifle fast and a pretty trifler in almost 
everything ; bound to have a good time while her daddy pays the bill. 

Addie M. Ruder. 


THE TRIP OF THE POPvGIE. 


105 


Feelafella , her sister, same stripe, or a trifle more so — by a modest young lady, 

say Miss Smith. 

Bluebird, a sister also, popularly supposed to be the original “ Girl in Blue,” 

yviiss Jones. 

Pinkanyellow , still another sister, but determined not to be still under any cir- 
cumstances. . Miss Brown. 

Other Indian maidens, who act the parts assigned them more or less artistic- 
ally, and who do much towards making the production a success — by 
several very pretty and interesting lady volunteers. 

Dresses, “ handed down ” for this occasion. 

Scarcely liad I finished reading the programme, when the 
curtain went up to a lively strain of music, presenting 

SCENE i. 

An Indian village on the site of Albany. Wigwams on either side of the stage. One of 
them with a sign of “ Delevan House ” on it ; still others, “ State House,” “ Stdnwix 
Hall,” “ Albany News Co.” “ Cobweb Hall,” “ John M. Glow, Cigars,” “Albany 
Knickerbocker “ Sunday Press.” etc., with guide-boards indicating “Broadway,” 
“ State Street,” “ B. and S. B.B.” etc., etc. 

Big Hen, Little Ciiicken, Great Sucker, and several Indians discovered seated in 
the background, 'playing euchre. 

Minniniva, Bluebird, Feelafella, Pinkanyellow, and other maidens enter B. and 
dance a fandango with tamborines and castanets. After the dance Minniniva comes 
forward and speaks. 

Oh, dear ! the same old “ all hands round ” from morn till night, 

Now that the dancing season is at its height. 

I am so bored by all these “hops” and “larks,” 

Whilst we have nothing but these gambling “ sparks,” 

I’m rusting daily for the lack of fun — 

For some excitement. What’s to be done ? 

Feel, Oh, never mind ; we yet may turn a chance. 

Let’s try a song, or have another dance. 

Min. Sings. Air: “Love Launched a Fairy Boat,” from “Children of Cyprus.” 

The Sardines launched a boat 
On the grand old Hudson river, 

And said, “ Our craft shall float, shall float, 

Till we our friends diskiver. 

A cracking gale shall swell each sail, 

And w T aft us on so merrily — 

And w T aft us on so merrily.” (. Bepeat .) 

(She retires up.) 

Little Chicken comes forward and sings. Air : “ Down in the Cane-brake.” 

Down on Broadway in a ginnv-mill, 

Dar am a nectar Sheldon loves so well, 

And I sometimes takes it — takes it plain an’ strong; 

I can’t lemonade it, so I sing dis song ; 

Come, bums, come! only lay low, 


106 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


We’ll have some fun where the u cobwebs” grow; 

Come, bums, come ! come along with me — 

We’ll start a high old jamboree. 

( Repeat , after which a regular break-down by Little Chicken, and the 
Indian maidens.) 

B. H. (; throwing down his hand , and coming forward with ferocious pomposity, a la 
Forrest.) 

Dry up ! git out ! and clear your cheiftan’s way. 

I’ll put 44 tin roofs ” on those who disobey ! 

{Sparring attitude.) 

Min. Put down your hands, How can you do so, pa ? 

Are you fishing for honors of the 4 * P. R.” ? 

B. H. No ; I fish for Porgies off the p-ier . 

{Retires up on his laurels.) 

Pink, {coming forward with a quiver of arrows.) 

Dear me ! I’ve lots of arrows, but no beau . 

Min. Well, Pink, lets to a fortune-teller go ; 

A picture of our future husbands we can get 
For fifty cents ; then, wherefore need you fret ? 

B. H. {rushing down.) Zounds l How is this? You talk of fortunes, beaux, 

As though these Indian beaux no good did bode / 

Subside, my pets, nor prate of this again — 

Min. We must have beaux if we would reign. 

B. H. Rain-bows , eh ? — bah ! {Takes snuff.) I’m up to snuff. 

Min. Ah Iso I see. By jinks, the snuff’s up too I {The audience sees it.) 

B. H. Heavings ! ungrateful child, your puns 
Are worse than all my tailors’ duns. 

You bring a blush upon my nose and pate. 

Min. No ; that comes from taking all your brandy “straight,” 

(B. H. stops blushing and retires to his cards again.') 

Now straightway let us take ourselves away 
{to maidens). 

To see the sights and fashions on Broadway. 

We’ll have a romp, and, harkee, that’s not all — 

We’ll 44 scoop ” the Deleran and have a 44 ball.” 

She sings. Air : 44 Sleigh ride.” 

Old folks will have it all their way ; 

And if we young ones would be gay, 

There always is the devil to pay, 

If we but hint at flirting. 

{They all dance off R.) 

L. C. That trick is mine. You’ve tricked me once before. 

There’s mischief brewing — have a care I 

G. S. I nose it ; it’s in that air {playing a card). 

{ War-whoop without. B. H. starts up.) 

B. H. Hal what jackass gave that bray ? 

L. C. ’Twas one of those two, coming up Broadway. 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


107 


Enter Bad Ego on a jackass, 

B. H. What is the warning thou wouldst have us heed, 

Bold warrior of the raving rampant steed ? 

B. E. Be steady ! and I’ll give what news you need. 

B. H. If it comes by way or from Chicago, 

Peddle it elsewhere ; here it will not go. 

B. E. A sail in sight, on our lee- bow, sir. 

And, by my steed, she is a rouser. 

B. II, Ha ! wheel out our guns ; and, if by chance they balk, 

Send G. F. Train on board their ship to talk. 

L. C. Suppose you find first what their coming means ; 

For, after all, they may be but Sardines. 

B. H. No ; they are here. On State street plant our guns, 

And throw a shell of fifteen hundred tons, 

That they may learn before they reach our shores 
What tails are given by our military lores. 

They all go off lut B. H. who sings. Air : 44 Red, White, and Blue.” 

When war caused a wide speculation, 

Which threatened our land to re-form, 

That 44 strong box,” proof ’gainst peculation, 

Was tapped at night and at morn ; 

With our 14 watchmen ” so diligently o’er it, 

And a fast turn given every screw, 

Ten thousand bold augurs would bore it — 

The boast of the speculative crew. {Repeat.) 

Enter Bad Egg, speaking. 

The enemy ! A ram, I fear. 

B. H. Ha 1 we’ll show this ram what ’tis to be a' steer* 

{He rushes wildly from the stage. Hurried music. Enter Minniniva and 
others from their promenade.) 

Min. What’s up, I wonder ? Such wild excitement ? 

Pink. I guess they’ve found another Ring indictment, 

Or, perhaps, the treasury’s got another leak, 

Min. Or Susan Anthony come here to speak. 

Enter Little Chicken. 

Adonis, dear, what’s all this bustle, pray ? 

L. C. A buccaneer comes bucking up this way. 

Pink. A buccaneer ! Thank Heaven 1 that’s something new. 

Feel. You take the buck, and we’ll salt down the crew. 

Min. Ha ! here comes dad ; he wears the bustle now, 

And great events dan.ce on his noble brow. 

Enter Big Hen, wildly. 

Away ! the bold pale-faced invader comes ! 


108 THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 

Min. Go box his ears and rattle on his drums. 

( Exit L. C. Right.) 

B. H. I’ll touch him on the raw, that’s what I’ll do. 

Min. We’re all agreed ; a raw' 11 do for us — tew ! 

B. H. Send out skirmishers by every way. 

Min. (sings), “ We feel so awful jolly when the band begins to play.” 

(All hands danced) 

Enter Henry Hudson and his mate and crew. 

Hud. Halt ! Old Hen, or we’ll just raise the dickens. 

Surrender, with all your pretty chickens. 

(Draws his sword with a great flourish. Maidens scream.) 

B. H. The Old lien dyes , but never surrenders. 

Hud. I rather like double inn-tenders. 

(Looking at maidens.) 

Min. We’re not Dublin tenders, I’d have you know, 

But Yankee chickens, o’er whom you cannot crow. 

Hud. Less chin, my dear ; surrender now you must. 

Min. We’re shy of strangers, and we never trust. 

Hud. Well, hang it up. I’m the original — 

B. H. Original Jacobs ? We knuckle down. 

Here’s my snuff-box, and freedom of the town. 

Though ’tis a felony of ample size, 

We’re not so savage but we’ll compromise. 

Hud. Away, my lads! you’ve heard the people’s voice. 

Holland, pays the money, you take your choice. 

(Exit Size and Light.) 

Mate, you grab the chieftain and all his suit, 

And I’ll lay for the chickens here so mute, 

(Chucks Min. under the chin , and flirts with her. Exit other maidens.) 

Mm. (coquetting.) Be still ! Go ’way! Perhaps you think me mute; 

But I’ve a way whereby I .can dispute. 

Hud. No one disputes your weigh. 

(Attempts to lift her.) 

B. H. Ha ! I’ll hear no more of this — a-way ! 

(She quiets him with a significant wink.) 

Juet. I like this girl ; let’s flip a penny — 

Hud. You’re too flippant. The wench belongs to me — 

Mine by right of first discovery 1 

(Flourishes his sword.) 

Juet. But I say, Cap. I’ll not submit to it. 

Hud. You’d better, or you might get hit through it. . 

Min. (to B. H.) We’ll not take hand in any of their spats. 

They’ll kill each other like Kilkenny cats. 

(they retire up.) 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


109 



Scene from the u Original Hudson.” Minniniya prevent* 

tNG A FIGHT BETWEEN HER FATHER AND HUDSON. 


110 TIIE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 

Hud. Mutinous wretch ! your blade unkiver ; 

For, as I live, I’ll perforate your liver. 

(they fight.) 

Min. A strike — a strike ! {comes down.) I hate a fight so tame. 

Put up your foils 1 I’ll toil your bloodless game. 

Hud. Sweet opposer, which one then doth win ? 

B. H. That’s not aposer — he that’s got most tin. 

Min. No ; here’s a cord, and measure shall declare. 

Juet. She takes us for cord-wood ; she does, I swear. 

{She places them hack to back, pretending to measure them , and ties them securely 
They cry out . Music.) 

B. H. Ah ! you’re weighed and found wanting, buccaneer. 

Hud. Hang her way 1 We’re bound like Aleck Frear . 

Fool that I was thus to be caught napping 
Where a pretty girl was bent on trapping. 

Min. We’ll toast you well ; don’t make a fuss. 

B. H. We’ve just the spit. 

Juet. Would they spit on us f 

Hud. I’ll make a plea. Great Hen and chicken mild, 

Don’t roast us ; we prefer being broiled ; 

Boasting takes basting o’er a fire that’s slow ; 

Send us to pot, or give us leave to go. 

B. H. Dost think us Sardines, that thus you scoff ? 

( Gives a war-whoop.) 

Hud. But we’re anxious about that whooping- cough. 

B. H. My appetite is good ; my heart is steel. 

Juet. Alas ! we’re corned and doomed for Indian meal. 

Hud. My short-cut to China’s a cold-cut here. 

They’ll bake us and eat us and call us deer. 

Why through these waters did I run my prow ? 

The good u Halt-Moon ” is in bad quarters now. 

B. H. Draw up the cords , and bring our game along — 

Hud. Ah I that’s the chord! We’ll have a little song. {Music.) 

He sings. Air : u I’d offer Thee this Hand of Mine.” 

I’d offer thee this round of mine 
Had it more tenderness ; 

But maws so delicate as thine 
Might thereby know distress. 

I’ll leave you if you’ll let me go ; 

I’ve staid here long enough, 

I know myself from head to toe- 
I know I’m very tough. 

I’ll marry either of your girls; 

I'll do your little chores, 

Or peddle forth your beaded work 
Among the Broadway stores. 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


Ill 


And, oh ! when whisky-skins we drink, 
When out upon a spree, 

Then you can look around and wink, 
And say, t; Hud. pays for me.’ 1 

(B. H. and M. delighted. All dance . Closed in by 


SCENE II. 

A front woods. Enter Size and Light, drunk. 

Size. Shiver my tarry top-lights ! How’s this, Abe ? 

Light. Red hot, don’t it? Let’s go to Clow’s an’ get a drink. 

Size. Good ’nough ! What’s the use of being ashore 

If you can’t get drunk, ’an then do so some more ? 

Everything is captured and taken in. 

There’s cotton in my throat — le’s find a gin . 

(War-whoop without. They start to go. Enter Little Chiohen, Bad Egg, 
and other Indians , and take them off prisoners. Hurried fiddling.) 


SCENE III. 

An Indian lager-beer garden on State Street , Hudson — Robert Juet, Minniniva, and 
Pinkan yellow discovered at a table drinking — Big Hen at another table , meditating 
sleepily over a glass of lager — Other Indians at other tables — Indian girls acting as 
waiters — Music. 

Song. Air : “ He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.” 

Oh Big Hen’s a jolly good fello 
Big Hen’s a jolly good fellow, 

Big Hen’s a jolly good fellow, 

Which nobody can deny. etc. (Repeat.) 

Hud. Four more beers 1 Sweet, my angel of the rope, 

We want excitement ; say we two elope ? 

We’ll seek my castle by the lake Como. 

Min. Hush! is dad asleep? Ah ! the lake — keno ! 

B. H. (aside.) Ha ! parental parentitude must be asserted, 

Or they’ll get deserts , and I deserted. 

( Comes over to them.) 

My great white bear, what are you doing ? 

Hud. Why a bear ? 

B. H. ’Cause I smell something Bruin\ 

Min. What shall be done ? He’ll cling us like a leech. 

Hud. I’ll fix him. Let me make a little speech. 

(Strikes an attitude.) 


112 


THE TRIP OF THE POEGIE. 


Illustrious chieftain — 

B. H. More chin ! Help ! help ! big war-whoop. 

(Exit, wild,) 

Hud. The powers of eloquence are here displayed. 

Min. He isn’t the first Indian that it has laid. 

But tell me more about your Lake Keno. 

Hud. Let’s take a walk. I'll chin you as we go. 

Song and break-down. Air : “ Darkie’s Holiday.” 

Oh ! let’s be gay and banish sorrow : 

Big Hen’s used up for to day ; 

We’ll laugh and sing until to-morrow — 

’Tis the sailors’ holiday. (Dance and exit.) 

Enter Size and Light, Light tremblingly . 

Size. We have escaped e’en with our stra’gic mind; 

So now let’s off and once more go it blind. 

Ah ! here blooms a garden of lager-beer. 

Light. Yes, yes ! good Size; but don’t let’s take it here. 

8izk. Don’t take water, man ; come, strut and swagger. 

(Strikes the table.) 

What, ho ! bring us quick, two mugs of lager ! 

Enter Bluebird and Feelafella. 

This way, fair one; here is an empty seat. 

Bring forth more mugs, and give yourself a treat. 

B. B. Ah ! that’s the talk. I think we’ll take that pew. 

I’ll fetch your beer and Sis will be-here too. 

(Exit.) 

Size, (to L.) Come ! don’t you see there’s nothing here to fear : 

Don’t act so cheap before your little dear. 

(Light and Feelafella coquette , and at last sit down to the table and hob-nob , 

Enter Bluebird with lager.) 

Size. Well, here’s a whack ! 

L. B. And here’s a racket ! 

Light. Here’s for a smack ! 

Feel. And here’s to back it ! 

(All drink. Music.) 

. 

Song — Size. Air : “ A Little More Cider.” 

When first I took to drinking, 

And through the world to stagger, 

I turned my back on u whisky sours,” 

And went for prime old lager. 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


113 


I looked upon the foam-capped mug 
I sniffed its joyous flavor, 

And then in ecstacy I cried : 

44 Another mug of lager ! ” 

Chorus: 

A little more lager too, 

A little more lager too ; 

A little more lager for my sickness 
A little more lager too. {Repeat.) 

I wish you were a cask of beer, 

And I could be bar- tender, 

How often I would sip you, dear, 

And go upon a 44 bender.” 

How bad these Injuns all would feel, 

If we in splendid feather 
Should occupy a single keg — 

All lager-beer together. {Chorus.) 


SCENE IV. 

FRONT WOODS. 

Enter Hudson and Minniniva, Juet and Pinkanyellow. Grand Wedding -march. 

Hud. (looking at marriage certificate.) Now that 
we are no longer 44 tens and twelves,” 

But have a license to set up for ourselves. 

We’ll open house and make a grand display, 

To celebrate this, our wedding-day. 

Min. {reading from a “ Knickerbocker .” 

44 Married, with intent to settle down,” 

What a sensation this will make in town ! 

nd yet I fear papa. What will he say 
At both his chicks, chitk weeding thus to-day ? 

He’ll grind his teeth ; his rage will know no bounds. 

Hud. Well, let him grind ; we’ll settle all his grounds. 

I’ll tell you what, the old chap’s rather green, 

And we’ll show him a thrilling sort of scene. 

Take him by storm, sing some pathetic song, 

And the good old Hen will cluck o’er all our wrong. 

Pinc. I fear you’ll not succeed ; but yet you may. 

Juet. A hen is sometimes comforted with a lay. 

Hud. . Fear not ! I have that telling speech still stored, 

And ere ’tis finished he will be so bored 
That, had he twenty lambs, full grown, like you. 

He’d skip and try to save his mutton, too. 

Min. I’ll tell you what — there is another plan ; 

Try fire-water on the good old man. 

He is but h-^man, aud he loves his “ball,” 

So, buy a “slate” for him at Stanwix Hall. 

Hud. Good lick ! 


114 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


Pink. Keno I 

Juet. {to orchestra). Start 'em agoing ! 

Music : 44 Shells of the Ocean.” Min. sings . 

One Sunday eve, when it was hot, 

When staying in became a bore ; 

I sauntered out in search of sport, 

Where I had roamed in days before. {Repeat.) 

I caught a glimpse of Polly Ann, 

But, leaning on another’s sleeve, 

Oh, backward then my fancy ran, . * 

To when she told me I must leave, f ' e ^ ea *' 

’Twas ever thus from youth to age, 

Although I never owed a grudge, 

Some other chap would be the rage, 

And I, alas ! would have to budge. {Repeat.) 

Poor Polly Ann ; I pity her, 

Though no one seems to pity me. 

She wed for gold and sil-i-ver ; \ (R* t\ 

Now that’s gone down and where is she ? { ^ ^ 

{All waltz off.) 


SCENE V. 

Full stage ; Indian wigwams on either side. Branches of trees on R. Ropes dangling 
from them , and wood piled up ready to light . Big Hen and Little Chicken 
sitting down playing cards . Music. 

B. IL I’ll play no more. I’m cleaned completely out, 

And not a thing have I left to 44 spout.” ( Weeps.) 

L. C. {aside). Ah ! I have it! Big knowledge ! {tavs his brainpan.) Now I’ll play 
For Minniniva’s hand at some near day. 

I have his money, now I’ll get the girl ; 

The setting first-now to win the pearl I 
Big Hen, of my pile I’ll stake a quarter, 

And play you now for your eldest daughter. 

B. H. Ha ! make your game; give us another deal ; 

You’ll get the “cut” if fortune still is steel; 

For, if you get her, it will be so hot 

That you will wish Old Hen had won the “pot.” {They play.) 

Ha l I take it up. A jack will do for me, 

L. C. Four aces and one bower is good for three ! 

B. II. Here’s something not found in palace or shanty, 

This using a daughter for an ante ; 

But deal again {he deals). I yet shall win the race. 

L. C. Not much ; for here’s both bowers and an ace ! 

The girl is mine— a wife most fairly won ! 

B. H. All right ! and now I’ll bet another one. 

L. C. No; one’s enough ; my cup is even full, 

Go scatter your gems of the beautiful. 


115 


THE TRIP OF TTIE PORGIE. 



Scene from the “Original Hudson,” Breakdown be- 
tween Hudson and Minniniva. 


116 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGLE. 


B. H. Well, be it so. If I can’t win she can. 

She’ll steal and give it me all back again. 

I’ll play no more. My fortune’s on the wane. ( War-whoop without,) 

Good heavens 1 these supes must be in dreadful pain. 

Enter Great Sucker and Bad Egg, bringing in Size and Light as prisoners, followed 
by a mob who dance and shout around them. 

Light. Gaught again ! Oh, Size why did we not skip 
And get aboard of our good waiting ship ? 

Size. A woman, as has always been the case. 

We got “ tight.” Now we’fe in a tighter place. 

B. H. Stand all apart ! {they stand). Bad Egg, what bringest thou ? 

B. E. Two roasting pieces, after quite a row. 

B. H. My brave, there’s one lean one in the group. 

B. B. I thought, great chief, he’d make good bones for soup, 

Light. They’re going to eat us, alas ! and alack ! 

Size. Well, never mind, we’ll have the inside track. 

B. H. No, no, we’ll not eat you; but, to be brief, 

I’ve got a poor-house to supply with beef, 

Though here, and “ Light,” you’re greatly in the way 
Of being smoked and packed otf where you'll pay. 

Light. ’Twill go against me ; for I never smolce. 

B. H. You’re bound to learn, and learning is the joke. 

Size. There’s the string to hang this poor lamb on. {Aside. J 
I’ll go buck and try a little gammon. 

Courageous savage of this teeming soil, 

I’ve something got you’ll swollow neat as oil. 

B. IL You can’t fool me with any of your hoaxes ; 

It must be smooth, like Sardines in their boxes. 

Size. We are sent out here by the great Bar-num 
To see if we could furnish him with some 
Real Indians ; for he is now so sadly pushed 
For the real article, that he has rushed 
About the country, with a “Mike ” and “ John,” 

As Indian chiefs from Oregon. 

You’ll get fire-water every night and morn — 

But on the sly. He’s “ temperance ” — in a horn ; 

Ride behind a brass band playing loud, 

And catch the homage of the gaping crowd. 

B. II. What an opening ! Yet I’m not so green ; 

If you have got money, I am to be seen . 

I am u Boss” up here, of Indians great and small. 

And we’re bound to fight ’gainst Tammany Hall. 

We’re Simon pure, and not made up in streaks, 

And love to fight against all feathered “ Greeks ! ” 

Size. That’s got the true Ring in it; but I fear 
The Injun business is well played out liore. 

Better accept the offer that I make, 

Or let me show you and give you a u rake.” 

B. H. You wander from the subject. String ’em up ! 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


117 


{The ropes are vnode fast about their waists, and , amid jeering on the part of the 
Indians and lamentations on th e part of Light, they are drawn up over the 
fires.) 

Now light the fires and do the rascals brown ; 

And when fit to cut up, why, cut ’em down. 

Here’s suspended animation for you ! 

Oh, don’t joke with such a doom before you. 

Nonsense I What’s the odds ? Let’s keep stout hearts. 

At all events, we’re both “ up ” in our “ parts.” 

( The fires are lighted. Indians gather around.) 

Big Hen Sings. Air: “ Wedlock is a ticklish thing.” 

Oh ! hanging is a ticklish thing. 

Chorus — Hi hillie ho, hi hillie he ! 

The “last sensation” it doth bring. 

Chorus — Hi hillie lio, hi hillie he ! 

“ Suspending ” surely is no harm. 

Chorus — Hi hillie ho, hi hillie he ! 

It often “ feathers nests” quite warm. 

Chorus — Hi hillie ho, hi hillie he ! 

If all your shoddy has been sold, 

Chorus — Hi hillie ho, hi hillie he ! 

And of your gains nobody told, 

Chorus — Hi hillie ho, hi hillie he ! 

Just turn it over to a friend. 

Chorus — Hi hillie ho, hi hillie he ! 

And then quietly suspend. 

Chorus— Hi hillie ho, hi hillie he ! 

( War dance by Indians ) 

Enter Hudson and Juet with their wives. 


Hud. How now, ye black and badly stage-struck hags ! 
Back 1 or I’ll work your feelings into rags. 

B. H. Oh, don’t be jealous of your favored crew ; 

We’ve got some ropes and branches here for you. 
I’ll stop this hanging around my daughters, 

And string you up in even warmer quarters. 

Min. ( kneeling and presenting her marriage certificate.) 

Dad, we crave your blessing. The job is done. 

It may be cool ; but here’s a jolly son. 


Size. 

Light. 

Size. 


118 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


{Suppressed war-whoop. Hudson, Juet and Pinkan yellow also kneel .) 

Hud. Yes; here we are. Give us a blessing hot, 

And take the matrimonial job-lot. 

B. II. (j furiously ) Ha 1 hang your job-lot ! You've played it on me. 

And sprung a mock-auction bid upon me. 

Ho ! Sieze the rascals ! Give them a short line. 

L. C. Express them through, for Minniniva’s mine. 

G. S. O Pinkanyellow ! O Pinky ! — boohoo ! — 

Have you and that other chap done so too ? 

Pink. Bet your remotest dollar upon it, 

I have been and gone and got and done it. 

B. H. Belud ! I’m dreadful anxious now to dye 
Those little locks, just forged upon the sly. 

Fiends catch the ills they say must be endured; 

I have chaps on my hands that must be cured. 

Where are my braves ? Where is my good old squaw ? 

My ante's taken by a son-in-law ! 

Bounce the rascals ! Hang them on yonder limbs I 
I’ll teach my daughters to play other him's ! 

{ War whoop.) 

{The Indians charge upon them with uplifted tomahawks. Minniniva and 
Pinkanyellow throw themselves between them and their husbands . Tableau.) 

Min. Hold ! back ! painted scullions I Mohican trash ! 

You’ll “ hang up” nothing here. We deal for cash. 

{The Indians retire. Big Hen wipes his glasses and calmly surveys the party.) 

Hud, Red-hot ! She’s just a peeler in a fight — 

Knocks Pocohontas higher than a kite. 

Min. Dad, we’re married ; you must let him live, 

To welt him now is my prerogative. 

Let us have peace, or we’ll buy up the tribe — 

B. H. I’d have the devil if he had a bribe. 

Hud. Well, now a-days most Indians would. 

I’ll place my money where ’twill do most good ; 

I have a plan, Big Hen, in which there’s u bones;” 

I’ll pass you shares, set down in shape of loans. 

Let down my men while I my plan unfold, 

And win your heart with watered stock unsold. 

B. H. Remove the trying scene. Don’t look so strange. 

We have concluded on a business change. 

(Size and Light are taken down.) 

Size. For this relief much thanks. I’ve been on a string. 

Hud. And now we’ll take you both into our ring. 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


119 


Light. Such long suspense I never want again. 

I’d rather wed and have contention plain. 

B. H. Come, let’s know the plan you have for me ; 

And, if ’tis worth much more than you would be 
For poor- house beef, aud I like the joke, 

Why — well ; if not — then you be hanged and smoke t 

Min. I’ve seen his scheme. I’ll tell you how it is : 

He’ll bring over some countrymen of his 
To marry all of us, and thus, in time, 

Blot out the Indian from his native clime. 

B. H. Climb-ing Ingineer ! that beats “Beechery.” 

You’d open here a first-class bleachery ? 

Hud. That’s the idea, as near as words can show it. 

The change ’ll come so smooth you’ll scarcely know it. 

Think of the blood this scheme will save unspilled ; 

Think of the soil that will be better tilled ; 

Think of the joy that will spread o’er the earth 
When war’s jobbed out around each fireside hearth. 

B. H. I see ; you’d call all the old coppers in, 

And issue new ones that are mixed with tin. 

Min. Yes, dad ; he’ll clean them so completely out, 

That 44 nary red” will there be seen about; 

Or, if perchance there’s one escapes the grief, 

Barnum will hire and dub him some great chief. 

I like the plan; indeed I do — tip top. 

My soul is in it, as shall be my 44 crop.” 

B. II. And what says Pinky ? Is she cropping out, 

And anxious for this change to come about ? 

Pink. I think its splendid ! and sisters, too, 

Are anxious to splice with the daring crew. 

Jukt. We’re all agreed, all willing to consent, 

As pioneers in this experiment. 

* 

Hud. Come ! time is precious ; let us have the word. 

The race must be icon, how’er rough the road. 

Give us your blessing on the grand idea, 

And we’ll retire, and fill our skins with beer. 

B. II. Here, Feelafella, take this good-Size-d man ; 

Take him and make the most of him you can. ( They take.') 

And here, Bluebird, ’s a Light er one for you ; 

Of course, my grandchildren ’ll be Light Blue. 

( Tableau and hlue lights ; also , Hue Indians.) 

< 

Min. Now, let some future Cooper, if he can, 

Make out the fate of the Last Mohican ; 

’Twould take a cooper and a tinker too, 

To find the leak that he’ll have vanished through. 


120 

THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 

She sings. Air: “Upide.” {college song. 

Solo. 

E’en though burlesque holds up to scorn, 

Quartette. 

U-pi-de, u-pi-dah I 

Solo. 

The many ills to which we’re born, 

Quartette. 

U-pi-de, u-pi-dah ! 

Solo. 

Oh ! let u§ hope the lesson taught, 

May be with some goodness fraught, 

Chorus. 

U-pi-de-i-de-i-dah, u-pi-de, u-pi-dah. 

{Repeat.) 

Solo. 

Sardines and friends, we’ll say good night, 

Quartette. 

U-pi-de, etc. 

Solo. 

We trust our plan ’ill turn out all right ; 

Quartette. 

U pi-de, etc. 

Solo. 

And if we e’er should meet again. 

We’ll wake for you this grand old strain- 

Chorus. 

U pi-de-i-de-i-dah, u-pi-de, u-pi-dah ! 


Curtain. 

As the curtain went down, the audience took up the chorus 
again, and that hall rang in such a way as would have made 
glad the heart of any Yale or Harvard man in the country. 

The next day was taken up with congratulations and recove- 
ries. It was an event, and a private one. On that account the 
papers contained no regular account of the entertainment. 
The friends of those concerned knew all about it, and that was 
enough. 

During the afternoon the members of the Sardine Club were 


THE TRIP OF THE POEGIE. 


121 


taken in different directions by different members of tbe jolly 
Stuffed’s, and tbe time was most agreeably spent. 

, “ Where the bee sips, there sip L” 

and where the Stuffed Club sipped, there sipped we. And we 
came rolling home in the evening. 

At nine o’clock we were escorted to their club-room, where 
a brilliant reception awaited us. Not only was the club out in 
full force, and each one of their arms bejeweled with a lady, 
but there were several distinguished citizens present whom we 
had not met before. 

John S. Dickerman and lady, Maj. Dave Woodhall and lady, 
Charles Piepenbrink and a beauty to whom he seemed greatly 
attached, W. R. Hiels and lady, Henry Garfield and two beau- 
tiful ladies, Thomas Prentice and ladies, Fred Englehardt and 
lady, and many more whose names I do not remember. 

The press of Albany was well represented. There was 
Jacob C. Cuyler of the Morning Express, Jack Hastings of The 
Knickerbocker , H. "W. Harrison of the Sunday Press , together 
with good looking representatives of the Times , Age, Post , 
Journal, Argus, and one two other journals of that goodly city. 

Newspaper men know how it is when newspaper men meet 
and so I will say nothing particular on that point in this connec- 
tion. There was music and songs, after which rose the light 
fantastic toe. 

Until long past midnight that toe was kept pretty busy, and 
general delight swept like a perfumed, magnetic wave over the 
Whole assemblage. Then came a supper. How shall I describe 


122 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


it ? I won’t attempt it, for it was too good to spoil, and I feel 
confident that I cannot do it justice. But it was touching. 

After the cloth had been removed, then began the “ few 
remarks,” and those few remarks were quite as palpable as 
the repast we had hidden. Captain Finecut was never 
more eloquent, and his reply to a toast that was personal at- 
tracted every ear, and his fine bearing pleased every eye. 

The great guns of the evening were fired first, and then 
came a fusilade of small arms, and this in turn dwindled -down 
to fire-crackers and percussion caps in the shape of jokes, etc. 
But they were all worth listening to. 

The reader, who has patiently followed our heroes from the 
start, need not be told that Byron Bleat was in his element 
(in fact, he was engaged to be married to at least three young 
ladies), or that Tom Bubble was as happy as a clam at high 
tide. The jokes took him more than the ladies did, and he 
took to the former more naturally than to the latter. 

When the firing became rather scattering and uncertain in 
its aim, somebody called upon Bubble for a few remarks, and 
he felt just like making a few. 

“ Ladies and gentlemen, I am not used to making speeches, 
but I have a conundrum that I — ” 

A yell of derision and delight greeted this announcement, 
and for a few moments it would have been difficult to have 
heard a ten-pounder speak. At last the cries of the majority 
called for the conundrum. 

“ The conundrum that I wish to ask, is this : Why does this 
table remind me of a deserted goose-pen ?” 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


123 


Of course, Bubble laughed, and Bitters was seeu holding his 
ears shut. 

“ Give it up !’’ was the general shout. 

“Well, I will tell you why this table reminds me of a deser- 
ted goose-pen. Because I see several old ‘ Quils ’ lying around 
it.” 

Shouts of applause followed, and the members of the press 
acknowledged the corn. 

Bubble had at last said a good thing. We were proud 

of him, and the members of our club made haste to shake him 

by the hand, and to congratulate him on his hit. Then the 

members of the Stuffed Club took turns at shaking his hand, 

until we began to fear that he would lose his right arm. But 
© © 

he took it all in good part, and bestowed a continuous grin 

upon the entire company while being thus “ shook.” 

This in reality brought the festivities to a close. A beautiful 
young lady moved to the piano and sang a fine selection of 
songs, and then the final piece of the evening — “When the 
swallows homeward fly ” — was sung with fine effect, after which 
the company went over us with a general hand-shaking, and 
the reception came to an end, 

The next day we were escorted by a committee on board our 
yacht, j Porgie, and there indulged in a final bottle, and again 
received their promise to make a return visit. While this was 
going on the sails were hoisted, and once more our yacht began 
to plow the waters, homeward bound. We all stood with a 
champagne-glass in our hands, and as we sang “ Good-by, 
Johnny, when you are away,” we gave our friends a cordial 


124 


THE TRIP OF THE PORGIE. 


good-by shake, assisted them into their boat that was drawn up 
alongside, and then, with a rousing three cheers and a tiger 
we set them adrift, and bore on our way down the river, full 
of good things and happy memories. 


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